One-shot, two-shot, three-shot, more
by SentrytheDefiant
Summary: A series of one-shots about your favorite Daria characters...all of them! Expect mostly angst/drama but there will be some romance, humor, and fluff. Just writing prompts I read on PPMB, things I thought about, AU's, etc.
1. Secrets

I love her.

Once the thought had taken fruition, there was no going back. She was sleeping next to me like she had so many times before, her face the picture of calm. I was wide awake and trying desperately to stop the wave of emotions crashing over me. She was beautiful whether she wanted to acknowledge it or not. Her auburn hair was spilling across the pillow, her slender arms resting under her head. The oversized t-shirt she wore as a nightgown had ridden up revealing pale thighs and a pair of black boyshorts. Oh no. I turned away, the heat already rising to my cheeks. I tried to focus on the blank canvas sitting a few feet away. It had remained that way for a few weeks now as I struggled to find a decent subject. I had no idea what I wanted to paint or even what materials I wanted to use which was new. I never had trouble thinking before...before this feeling started taking over my life.

It was...difficult to say the least. My heart was torn between remaining the devoted best friend and taking the risk of revealing my true feelings. I had no idea which outcome would be worse: being heartbroken for the rest of my life or destroying the only true friendship I'd built in years. Our normal routines had become torture. Just walking to school was enough to threaten my sanity. I ran a hand over my face, willing the thought away for the thousandth time. I knew it was useless; there was no going back now. I felt the bed shift and I risked returning my focus to my houseguest. She was sitting up now, her deep brown eyes squinting in my general direction. I pretended that her gaze didn't rip me to shreds.

"I don't think I've ever seen someone wake up that fast."

She shrugged, "You learn to sleep with one eye open living with Quinn. You're still awake?"

I smiled weakily, "Can't really relax enough. I've got a lot on my mind."

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Could I tell her the truth? No, it could never happen, "It's going to take a fat stack of cash to examine the innermost workings of my brain, Morgendorffer."

She reached over, grabbing my hand, "I think I could do one better."

And then she was leaning forward, her hands grasping my shirt as she kissed me. I pulled her closer until she was sitting on my lap. She pulled away, her breath coming out in short gasps, "I don't..."

"It's okay...I know. I've always known" she smiled.

Now, it was my turn. I kissed her with all the intensity I could muster. She knew all along. Was I so obvious? I closed my eyes, not wanting to think about that now. Because I finally had her. She was right here...

"JANE!"

My eyes shot open and I was momentarily blinded by the sunlight. My eyes adjusted and a figure came into focus: Daria. She was standing over me, dressed in her typical attire. Her boots were already tied and her backpack was hanging off one shoulder. She eyed me for awhile before speaking.

"We're going to be late. Come on."

I stared, mouth agape. It was all a dream? Of course...

She raised an eyebrow, "What is it?"

I shook my head, "Nothing. I need a shower."

She stepped aside as I stood up and ran towards my bathroom. I slammed the door and turned the sink on full blast. I couldn't let her hear me sob. I splashed my face with warm water and glared at my reflection, icy blue eyes glared back.  
You're going to get ready, you're going to go out there and you're going to pretend.  
Just like always.

**Not a Daria/Jane shipper but something I've decided to mess around with. Enjoy!**


	2. Of Liars and Thieves

**After reading quite a few alternate versions to Dye! Dye! My Darling where Daria doesn't tell Jane about the infamous kiss, I've decided to write one myself. Of course, all the characters belong to their respective owners and I'm not getting paid for this. **

All I could do was stare at the wall, ignoring the heated debate brewing downstairs. This couldn't be happening. Not to me. I could just hear her words echoing around me, "You'd never do anything to hurt me."

I didn't mean to hurt her...did I? Maybe her accusations were right all along. I did find Tom attractive and maybe I was jealous. No, I was. Incredibly jealous. At first, I hated him for occupying all of Jane's time. She was always pushing me to the side whenever a new fling came along. Whether she meant to or not, it stung. My only consolation was that none of those relationships lasted very long. But then Tom came along and everything flipped. Now he was taking her to the movies and out bowling, leaving me to fend for myself. A long time ago, I wouldn't have cared. I was used to spending weekends alone. But after moving to Lawndale, I was finally accepted by someone, someone worth getting to know. And now I finally had a firsthand glimpse at how easily friendships could be ripped apart. I placed my head in my hands, my eyes burning. I wanted to kiss him. He was intelligent and attractive...and he looked at me as if I was special. Finally, a guy wanted to know ME and I wanted to know him too. He saw past the mask and...I couldn't give that away. There it was, the truth in all its ugly glory.

Trent was right, I couldn't play stupid. I didn't actively try to make myself available but I didn't shy away from the attention. I never turned him away even though I realized how it would appear. Why should I jeopardize myself? If he was willing to take the bait...God, what was I saying?! Had I turned into one of those girls? I didn't want to believe it but I was alone with my thoughts and they were vicious. Barging in on them making-out was a shot right to the chest. It was a slap in the face, an outright assault on my already damaged self-esteem. And then she had the nerve to force ME to dye her stupid hair. As if that would solve all of our problems. I did feel terrible about the botched job; that wasn't intentional. But then she had the nerve to say I did it on purpose! Like I would be so catty!

...But wasn't I? I kissed him. Twice. I wanted to and I didn't care about her feelings. In that moment, I'd finally won. I was no longer the background character in the life of Jane Lane. I had reclaimed the lead and right under her nose. He chose me. I flopped back against my pillow, the bitterness oozing off my skin like slime. I wanted to keep my friendship...no matter how much I was seething. I needed Jane, probably more than she needed me (even if I didn't want to admit it). I couldn't return to being a pariah. But I also wanted to keep the guy. I didn't know how I would manage both but I was determined to make it work.

* * *

"You didn't tell her, did you?"

He draped an arm over my shoulder, "Of course not! Do you think I have a death wish?"

I breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing against him, "I know...I've just never been good at the whole lying to my best friend thing."

"Could've fooled me."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I spat back, my eyes narrowing.

"Hey, I'm just saying. I could've dumped her. We were on the outs. It took a lot of convincing to get her to stay."

"No. I need her to trust me. You just have to act like everything's fine. I couldn't deal with the alternative. If you broke up with her and we became...no, everything would be ruined."

He raised an eyebrow, "As opposed to sneaking around behind her back?"

"You like me don't you?"

He softened, "I do like you. A lot. I've just..."

"Then everything's fine. She never has to know."

He pressed his lips against mine and I pressed back hungrily. What Jane doesn't know won't hurt her.


	3. College Bound

**Despite her annoying tendencies, I do have a soft spot for Quinn. This is dedicated to her character. Don't own characters blah blah. **

Being pretty and popular is both a blessing and a curse. Well, evidently more of a blessing but you get my point.

I sat in the cafeteria at my usual table, a plate of lettuce and raspberry vinaigrette sitting on the tray in front of me. Sandi continued to chatter away about some fashion faux pas while I absentmindedly twirled a strand of bright red hair around my finger. After I finished my tutoring sessions with David, I just didn't have the patience to deal with the conversations I was used to. The go-to colors for the season and the latest issue of Waif magazine weren't stimulating for me anymore and I found myself drifting further and further away from my 'friends'. The very people that I had spent my entire high school career with were now the kinds of people I didn't want to be associated with. Sure, it was great to be good looking but why did that matter if you had no substance to back it up?

"Quinn, since you _obviously _have something else on your mind maybe you should _enlighten_ the rest of us?" Sandi's deep voice cut across the table, breaking me from my daydream.

_I have to act quick_, "Um...no Sandi! I just haven't been getting much sleep lately."

"Why Quinn, have you been staying up _studying_?" It was more of an accusation than a question.

"Of course not! I've just been listening to these podcasts from these _really _cute snowboarders from Belgium and they only come on at really specific times. You should listen to it!"

She eyed me suspiciously before flipping her hair over her shoulder, "Very well. As I was saying, it is important that we coordinate our accessories to match or graduation robes. Even if I am wearing an ill-fitting smock, I'm certainly not going to compromise my good tastes."

Stacy and Tiffany whole-heartedly agreed while I fought the urge to smash my lunch tray over my head. This was going to be a long month.

* * *

I stood in front of my full length mirror and stared at my reflection. It was strange to be wearing the oversized royal blue robe. It was my graduation day, the day I'd been waiting for ever since last summer. To be honest, it was a relief. Fourteen year old Quinn was positive that she never wanted to leave high school. There was so much potential, I could feel it on the first day I entered Lawndale High. I was different then, more concerned with appearance and climbing the totem pole of popularity. Of course, I could never neglect my looks no matter how hard I tried. It would always be a part of me, it just had a lower importance now. I held the graduation cap in my right hand and stared at the golden tassel. In just a few short hours, I would be a high school graduate. Even more amazing, I passed all my classes with outstanding marks. I managed to maintain a 3.4 GPA thanks to email correspondence with David. I passed my SAT's with a 1490. The astonished looks on my friends faces were enough to make me jump for joy. I did it!

"I must've stepped into The Twilight Zone." A familiar voice caused me to turn towards the door. Daria!

I rushed over as quickly as I could, throwing my arms around her. She stiffened at first but eventually she hugged me back, "I missed you!"

She pulled away, "Hello? Quinn? Are you still in there?"

"Can you believe it? I'm done with high school!"

"Actually, I can" she smirked, "With the amount of times you emailed me, there's no way you could've failed."

I smiled, "I know but who else was I going to ask for homework help? Certainly nobody here."

She took the graduation cap from my hands and secured it on my head, "And to think this was almost a 'DUNCE' cap."

"Ha ha".

She stood back to look at me, "You're going to like college. You can be openly intellectual. No need to hide under make-up magazines and scented nail polish ads."

I scoffed, "Daria, it's a fashion institute. It has 'fashion' in the name."

"You can't fool me. Unless I read your email incorrectly, I thought I saw the words 'beauty industry merchandising'. Sounds like a lot of business to me."

"Gawd Daria, business? Do I look like a BRAIN to you?"

"Only when I'm not wearing my glasses" she grabbed my hand, "Come on, we're going to be late. Wouldn't want to forget your diploma."

I couldn't keep from smiling as we made our way downstairs. Me, a college student. Who would've thought? I could just imagine the look on Sandi's face when I finally broke the news that I would not be attending Lawndale State. After conforming to fit a mold for so long, I was finally breaking out. Goodbye Lawndale, Hello future!


	4. Severed Ties

**I've always been interested in the whole Daria/Jane/Tom situation and the various ways it could've been handled so here's another AU where Daria and Jane never rekindle their friendship. Characters all belong to their owners. **

_And is that what you call tact?_

_You're as subtle as a brick in the small of my back._

_So let's end this call and end this conversation._

_And is that what you call a getaway?_

_Well tell me what you got away with._

_Cause you left the frays from the ties you severed _

_When you say best friends means friends forever_

**-**Brand New, Seventy Times 7

**Jane's P.O.V. **

I stared at the invitation with disdain, my eyes narrowing into thin slits. Why would she send this shit to me?

The perfectly monogrammed letters were typed in forest green onto thick off-white cardstock. The front of the invitation was plain and simple:

_You are cordially invited to celebrate the engagement of:_

_Thomas Sloane & Daria Morgendorffer_

I fought the urge to shred the paper into a million pieces, instead opting to read the additional information. It was going to be held in some swanky banquet hall, paid for by dear mother and father Sloane no doubt. When I first saw the contents of the envelope, I laughed. It had to be some sort of practical joke; there was no way this was actually happening. But soon after the rage set in and I wished it had been a gag. How could she think I wanted to attend some formal dinner with a bunch of rich snobs. How could she think I wanted to see her face after all this time? We were both twenty-four now and we hadn't exchanged a word in six years. Six very long years. Why bother now? The RSVP date was listed as a week from now and I had absolutely zero intentions of reserving a space. I'd be damned if I showed up anywhere near the area. I threw the entire thing, envelope and all, into the junk drawer before locking myself in my bedroom. Good riddance.

* * *

The phone was ringing and I held a death grip on the receiver. I couldn't believe I let Trent talk me into this. He actually seemed sympathetic about the whole situation and offered his advice without question. "Come on, Janey. She's extending the request, at least give it a try. I'm not saying everything will be solved but it couldn't hurt to go." Damn him and his logic. On the fourth ring I was thinking about hanging up. He said try and I did. I never guaranteed my success.

"Hello?" the typical Daria monotone was familiar to me even without hearing her voice for this long.

I struggled to keep my emotions at bay, "Uh...it's me...uh...it's Jane."

"...Oh. Um...so I guess you received the invitation?"

Obviously? How else would I have gotten the number? I opted for cordial, no need to explode right now, "That's actually why I was calling. I wanted to uh...RSVP..."

"You're coming?" her tone conveyed a mixture of confusion and amazement.

"Yeah...thanks for uh...ya know inviting me."

"Of course...I'll just relay the information to higher authorities. I'm not much for party planning. Um...I guess I'll see you then."

"Yeah, thanks again."

The awkward conversation was over and I breathed a sigh of relief. The discussion couldn't have taken more than five minutes but it felt like an eternity. I couldn't believe that we had once spent countless hours on the telephone. She still sounded the same but clearly a lot had changed in both of our lives. She was engaged, something I doubted would happen and certainly not so soon. Of course, it was normal for people to get married after college...Daria just never seemed like one of those people. But what did I know? She had fooled me before.

I considered my life and wondered if she would be equally surprised. I still lived with Trent, however, we made the move to NYC shortly after I graduated. It was easier for him to find solo gigs and I needed to get as far away from Lawndale as possible. Art school was just a formality. I started off as a Fine Arts major before eventually dropping out. College wasn't for me and I knew I was wasting my time. It didn't take long for me to realize the 'starving artist' profession wasn't going to pay the bills so I got a job at a bank. Jane Lane was a conformist. Who would've thought _that _would ever happen? Definitely not Daria. She always maintained the confidence that I would become a successful artist, open my own gallery or something. Too bad the real world seemed to drain the creativity right out of me. She probably reached all her rigid goals. Journalism degree from Bromwell, a job working as an editor for some impressive newspaper like The New York Times. The perfect life for the perfect brainiac. Even if she didn't make the grades or have the right attitude, it wouldn't matter anymore. With the Sloane seal of approval and the support of enough cash to buy a small island, she'd always be in first place.

Maybe this engagement party was not the place for me. Too late to back out now, I told myself.

* * *

It was just as extravagant as I expected. Crystal chandeliers, ornate tapestries, emerald green tablecloths and decorative china. I felt horribly out of place but I couldn't care less what a bunch of stuffy middle-aged assholes thought of my appearance. I spotted Daria's family in the center of the room but I made no move to approach them. Having a conversation with her parents and Quinn would be even weirder than our forced banter on the telephone. I could only deal with small doses of phony pleasantries before I flew off the handle. This was such a bad idea. I spied the alcohol and was about to secure my position when someone touched my arm. I spun around, half-expecting it to be someone's distant drunken uncle who I would have to brush off. Instead, I came face to face with my old best friend.

She looked almost like a completely different person. She was dressed in a plain black cocktail dress and a pair of black wedge heels, her height almost matching mine. Her hair was expertly curled into perfect waves that fell over her shoulders. She wasn't wearing glasses and I couldn't tell if she had on contacts or had opted for eye surgery. I noticed the impressive diamond ring on her left hand. I was stunned into silence.

"I'm really glad you could make it".

"Me too. This is uh..." I struggled to find the right words.

"Pretty ridiculous?"

I shrugged, "Your words not mine."

She sighed, "It was Kay's idea and I just went along. As long as she was happy. I didn't even want a party to begin with."

"...Well, a party's a party right? Might as well enjoy it. Where's the fiancé?"

She motioned towards the opposite side of the venue, "Tom's schmoozing. Never a bad time to attract new clientele."

I resisted the urge to groan, "Uh..what does he do?"

"He's taking over the firm. It's his job to make sure the old money gets ever older."

It was a joke but I didn't have the urge to laugh, "What about you?"

"Oh, you know, I'm the reclusive writer. I'm working on a novel. I have to meet this deadline or my publisher will scalp me."

I smiled. My assumptions were all correct, "I'm sure the gratuitous amounts of caffeine will all be worth it."

"I sure hope so. Um..what about...what about you? What have you been up to?"

"I'm the Financial Bank's loyal subject by day and a two-star chef by night. It's all _very_ glamorous."

She frowned, "Uh...that's...um..."

"It's shit" I chuckled, "But it's life. Nothing I can do but ride it out until something better comes along." I turned back towards the bar, "Now, if you excuse me, I think there's a glass of wine with my name on it."

She was grabbing my hand before I could take two steps, "Wait...I need to tell you something."

I paused, "Yes?"

"I'm...I'm sorry things got ruined...between us. I never wanted us to drift apart. I never thought that it would ever happen to us. You were the first person to ever get to know me, the real me, and I never forgot that. Everything just got so fucked up and I didn't mean for any of it to get so out of hand. I...I know it's no excuse but I love him. I...I don't know, Jane, I'm sorry. I'm really extremely sorry..."

I was seething by the time she finished, "So, that's it? You're sorry so I should forgive you? You're sorry and that makes it all better? You didn't 'mean it' so it's okay? No hard feelings? No, Daria, it doesn't work that way. 'Sorry' isn't going to fix all of your problems and it certainly isn't going to fix us. You really think I care about what happened before? That I care that you kissed him...that you love him? Shit, this is about us! You let him come between us! You deserted me when I needed you. Yeah, I was angry at first but you never called. You never reached out. You...you ignored me! You wouldn't even fucking look at me! You never said goodbye, you just packed up and left. You didn't even care about my life. You destroyed it, Daria and it was up to you to fix it! But instead you took your guilt and your anxiety and you made it all about you. And now, the icing on this shit cake, you decide to deliver your 'heartfelt' apology SIX YEARS later in the middle of an engagement party. You don't care about me, you just wanted this off your conscience. 'Apologize to the old best friend so you can finally get married and live a great life'. Well, it's not going to happen. Fuck you!"

Everyone was watching us now but I didn't care. Years of frustration and sadness came erupting out of me like a volcano and I was glad for the audience. Let them see. Her face was streaked with tears but she cried silently. Never like her to make a scene. Too late, I'd already created one for her.

"...I...I never wanted to hurt you. I was scared...I was terrified and I didn't know what to do! I didn't know how to make it better and then weeks went by and months and then it was years and..."

I rolled my eyes, "You're always fucking scared. You know what, I actually came here with the slightest hope that maybe we could be friends again. It was a slim chance but I thought that maybe things would be different. But you're just the same, Daria. And...I can't be a part of your life." I started to walk away.

"Jane, please, don't do this..."

I waved as I slowly made my way to the exit, "Congratulations."

It was pouring outside but I didn't rush to the car.

_"Yeah. We're the kind of friends who can't stand the sight of each other."_

_"Temporarily, right?"_

_"I hope so, Daria."_

I stared up at the sky, letting the rain wash over my face. Best friends forever. I guess forever isn't that long after all.


	5. Ghost World

**This one will be a little more fun. I'm sure we've all seen that photo of Daria and Enid from Ghost World so I've decided to do a little crossover (with elements from the movie and the comic). Daria as Enid, Jane as Rebecca and Tom as Josh. I don't own Ghost World or Daria. **

"I bet. Actually, he kind of reminds me of that one guy you went out with, Larry. God, what look was he going for, a gay tennis player from the '40s?" Daria stifled a laugh as she paged through the yellowing pages of an old Archie comic.

"Fuck you" Jane spat back, her eyes focused on the muted television. The 'Sick, Sad World' logo flashed across the screen.

Daria chuckled softly, "You dated him".

They were two weeks into their summer vacation and they were still reveling in their newfound freedom. High school was finally over and they were thoroughly relieved. Daria was particularly happy seeing as she never cared for her overzealous teachers and idiotic classmates. She preferred the company of her ever widening music collection and her best friend, Jane Lane. There was a new Mystik Spiral mixtape that she had to borrow from Jane. Just another item added to her expansive To-Do list. Summer would be jammed full of adventures, if she had anything to say about it. She sighed as she remembered the remedial art class that would take up her Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. She had zero aptitude for any artistic medium but she never thought you could actually _fail_. Wasn't it more about the effort than the actual aptitude? She continued to lazily scan the comic book panels. If only she could evoke the talent of John L. Goldwater.

Jane was slightly more bittersweet about graduating. Sure, there was no one she would _really_ miss but the prospect of adulthood was cringe inducing. She intended to take life by the balls and work it to her advantage but she only had a vague idea where to begin. She knew it was crucial for her to find some kind of part time position, even if she would rather walk over boiling hot coals. Her and Daria had already planned on getting an apartment way before the end of their senior year. Now, the plan had to be put into action. She knew Daria was less than enthusiastic about being forced into human interaction but she hoped her reassurance would be enough to get her to budge. It was a stretch but she had to try.

* * *

Jane took a sip of her water-downed Pepsi, a half eaten cheeseburger sitting on her grease stained paper plate. Daria was pouring salt onto the scratched linoleum tabletop, using her pinky finger to create a series of straight lines.

"Remember when Kevin would snort salt right up his nose? God, what a pathetic doofus."

Jane smiled, "Somebody had to fill the position."

Daria adjusted her dark sunglasses, her thick-rimmed square glasses resting securely in the front pocket of her navy sailor jacket, "I'm thinking of getting a tattoo. Something cool. How would Kafka look right on my shoulder?"

She motioned to her right shoulder while Jane continued to slurp her soda, "A tattoo? You're broke."

Daria rolled her eyes and sighed, an exasperated expression forming on her face, "Yeah, I'm broke _now _but later. Maybe a skull would be better. Or is that too cliché? I was thinking something anatomically correct not something with flames or even worse, barbed wire."

"Want me to draw up something? Seeing as you're not exactly inclined to that sort of thing".

Daria shot her the middle finger, "That class is torture. There's some airhead in there constantly being gassed up by our clueless 'instructor'. She actually passed up a tampon superglued to a teacup as some sort of feminist statement. I doubt she even knows what feminism is."

Jane laughed, "And you're the face of feminism? Sorry but you're no Jane Austen, no matter how many stories you write."

"I didn't say I was an authority. I was simply stating that I have prior knowledge."

"Whatever. Listen, are you still coming job hunting with me tomorrow? I figured we'd start on Dega Street and work our way down."

She pursed her lips, "Uh...maybe. I'm gonna be kinda busy tomorrow."

Jane contemplated pressing for more information but sided against it. She knew getting Daria to explain was like pulling teeth. She would just have to do the search alone.

* * *

"I just feel so out of it. And Jane doesn't get it. She's so gung-ho about finding an apartment but I don't know anymore. Maybe I should consider the Creative Writing scholarship Ms. Defoe offered. I mean, she did go out of her way to inquire about it." Daria was lying down on Tom's black leather sofa, her hair spilling over the arm of the couch.

He took a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling a stream of gray smoke, "You have to do what you need to. Look at me, a hardworking employee of the Quik-N-Easy Mart. Sure the pay is less than fortunate but it beats working for my father for the rest of my life."

She sat up quickly, "So, you're saying I should just do it?"

He ran a hand through his hair, "Well, yeah. It's your life after all."

"You're a saint you know that? A selfless creature of God's creation. All hail the king."

He rolled his eyes, "Sometimes I wonder why I deal with either of you. Especially you."

She laid down again, this time her head rested on his lap, "You like me the best, admit it."

He stared down at her, his face betraying no emotion, "Is this another one of your come ons? Because I'm not falling for it. My ego is wounded enough without your constant tricks. I've known you way too long, Daria."

"I'm completely serious. This is an official gesture that you shouldn't take very lightly. I'm slightly offended. Maybe I should reconsider..."

He raised an eyebrow, "You're serious? You're not kidding?"

"Oh, Thomas, your warranty is about to expire unless you provide an acceptable answer. I have plenty of awful comedy specials I could be watching on TV at this very moment. So, do you like me? Truly?"

"I mean you're constantly making me feel uncomfortable but I mean...is it that obvious?"

She pulled him closer and kissed him graciously. She hastily broke the contact and sat up, tying her boots, "...God, I hate myself...I have to go."

He ran a hand over his face, "Can you ever make up your mind?"

She cast him a sidelong glance before making her way towards the front door, "I'm not sure..."

* * *

Daria laid on her bed, her legs curled up to her chest as a Bob Dylan CD played on repeat through her stereo. Her face was wet with tears that she angrily swatted away causing her hair to fall over her face. She screamed, her pillow barely muffling her hysteria. She had been avoiding Jane after she spoke with Tom at his apartment. They had long since established the unspoken rule that Tom was off limits and Daria liked to test the boundaries. His floundering was reward enough for her unabashed flirtation but it was all in good fun. Kissing was definitely not okay. She sobbed harder, her tears soaking into her thin bedsheet. Her indiscretion was just the tip of the iceberg. She felt like she was floating in a sea of uncertainty and every day only dragged her out further into the abyss. She never thought moving in with Jane would be an issue but departing from high school spun everything into perspective. _We're just teenage friends...it's not like we're married or something. We can always be friends, we don't have to move in together. _The thought only supplemented her misery. She knew Jane would flip out about it. She'd been seeing apartments for weeks and Daria didn't accompany her to any of the viewings. It was only a matter of time before she became suspicious and Daria had no answers prepared for the onslaught of questions Jane would heap upon her.

"You okay, kiddo? I uh...I'm making blueberry pancakes..." Jake Morgendorffers voice barely cut through the earth shattering bawling. Daria made no move to answer him.

He stood awkwardly in the doorway, a whisk held in his right hand dripping pancake batter onto the charcoal carpet, "Uh...if you...uh...need to talk about anything..."

She buried her face further into her pillow, "Just go away."

He frowned before exiting the room, quietly closing the door behind him. She crawled her way out of bed, her feet dragging across the floor. She stared at herself in her bathroom mirror. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, her glasses resting crookedly on her nose. She resisted the urge to smash the mirror to pieces and instead yanked open her medicine cabinet. She rummaged through empty pill bottles and toothpaste tubes until she extracted a half empty container of intense red hair dye. She headed towards the shower, her mind currently preoccupied by the task at hand.

* * *

"When did you do that?!" Jane was gaping at her friend, her frustration barely contained.

Daria's hair was a bright shade of red, contrasting perfectly with her teal 'Sick, Sad World' t-shirt. She smoothed out her green plaid skirt and shrugged, her eyes focused on a pair of oxblood Dr. Martens, "There's a monster movie marathon playing tonight on Cinescreen. All the classics: Creature From The Black Lagoon, Bride of Frankenstein, It Came From Outer Space..."

Jane folded her arms across her chest, her blue eyes narrowed, "Have you been looking for a job? You said you'd look while I scouted out apartments."

"...I am. All these places give me the creeps."

"It doesn't matter! You just put up with it for a few months until you find something better. I told you I could get you a spot at the movie theater."

She wrinkled her nose in disgust, "Cleaning up spilled soft drinks and dispensing buttery sludge onto greasy bags of popcorn? N-O."

"If you don't find something by Friday then that's your last resort."

Daria was picking through a rack of clothes. She pulled out a vintage leather jacket, a smiling playing on her lips, "Wouldn't Tom look absolutely ridiculous in this? Oh, we have to buy it!"

Jane ignored her friend's banter and moved towards the opposite end of the thrift store. She didn't know what was going on with Daria but she was being more noncommittal than usual. She'd been ignoring all of her phone calls and feigning 'sickness' whenever Jane asked for her help regarding apartment searches. She'd narrowed it down to three but without Daria's input, she was stuck. She watched her hand over a crumpled twenty dollar bill to the pimple faced sales clerk, the leather jacket strewn across the counter. What was going on with her?

They departed the thrift store and settled on Pizza King for lunch. The usually crowded establishment was devoid of patrons except for an elderly couple near the back corner of the restaurant. The place smelt of burnt cheese and grease, the fumes oddly comforting to the duo. Daria felt a twinge of sadness start to form in her chest. She would miss this place when she was gone. She sat down at their usual booth while Jane ordered two slices of extra cheese pizza and two large cokes. Daria stared down at her hands, preparing her speech in her head. She wasn't at all prepared for the blow-out but she couldn't keep evading Jane forever. Raft University was sounding more and more appealing everyday despite her previous disdain for college. She could still apply for the Spring semester if she buckled down to meet the deadline. The only person privy to this information was Tom. She hadn't even told her father yet. She wasn't certain but she was eighty-five percent sure that it was the right choice. She only hoped Jane wouldn't be _too_ ticked off.

Jane slid into the booth, sliding a slice and a cup over to her companion. She bit into the warm pizza, "What's on your mind, amiga?"

Daria breathed in slowly through her nose, "I'm thinking of...leaving."

Jane placed her pizza back on the plate, "What are you talking about?"

She bit her lip, "Okay, well, you know that creative writing scholarship I was offered? My dad insisted that I take it so I did..."

"You're lying" she muttered through clenched teeth.

"Why are you being so weird? It's just a dumb scholarship, it's not such a big deal!"

"Oh, please! You used to tell me everything and now you just come out with this and I have no inkling of you even being interested in this college. I just don't think you care anymore..."

Daria scoffed, "Are you kidding me? I'm the one that's been planning things all summer while you hound me! I'm just trying to have one last hurrah before we have to turn into a bunch of boring stiffs."

"Oh, I forgot, you're so much more interesting and _enlightened_ than me" she stated before rolling her eyes.

"What is your deal?! I _might_ go off to school and you're acting like I murdered someone."

Jane pushed away her food, "Maybe it's because you've been acting weird all summer! You won't even go out when I ask you to and then you're hiding this crucial piece of information."

Daria drank some of her soda, "Look, it's not even a big deal. Forget I mentioned it, god. So, anyway, I got into a huge argument with Tom last night. He always says I try too hard but am I supposed to throw caution to the wind? Why wouldn't you want to strive? He's just so contentious sometimes, it's ridiculous."

"Oh my god. Just shut up!"

She visibly recoiled, "What is your fucking problem!? I just said to drop it."

Jane stood up, grabbing her sketchbook, "You! You're my problem! When did you become so pretentious? You think everyone is so beneath you, it's pathetic."

"What?! You're the one being psycho. What are you PMSing?"

Jane turned away and made her way towards the exit, "Have fun at Raft."

**I hope I did both justice. This was a spur of the moment type thing. I also happen to think Enid is the perfect combination of both Jane and Daria: artistic, sarcastic and a little manipulative. Although I do get more of a Jane vibe from Enid, I decided to stick with the photo for inspiration. All direct quotes and paraphrases are the property of Daniel Clowes. Reviews appreciated! **


	6. The Beginning

**Back to the angst. This one is about our favorite/most hated Sloane. Might make this into three short parts. **

Thin rays of sunlight streamed in through the gaps in the blinds, stirring me from my deep slumber. I rubbed my eyes and came to focus on a person...a girl. She had one pale arm draped over my chest and part of her face was obscured by red curls. The part of her face that I could see was covered in a dusting of light brown freckles. She was cute but somewhere the gears were slowly churning. The realization finally dawned on me and I hastily shook off the early morning fog. I slid out of bed, careful not to disturb my sleeping nightmare. The confrontation would have to happen eventually but the task seemed incredibly daunting. After all, this was just as much my fault as hers. In retrospect, the blame shouldn't sit with her. She saw an opportunity and she went for it whereas I should've rebuffed all of her advances. I knew where the flirtation would lead. I fed into it to boost my already overinflated ego, reveling in the attention. Bromwell was proving to be much more trouble than I ever anticipated.

My bare feet treaded lightly across the dark oak wood floor as I made my way into the kitchen. I pulled a box of Cheerios from the top of the fridge and dumped some into a small bowl. I filled half the bowl with milk, leaving the carton on the table. I wasn't hungry in the slightest but it gave me something to do while I mulled over my predicament.

That party was the highlight of the Spring semester and I told myself it wouldn't matter if I was there or not...but I knew I was lying to myself. I **had **to be there, it was imperative that I at least show up. My father made it clear that grades were important but networking would be the foundation for the rest of my life. Everyone knew my father, Angier, and by extension they knew me. Hence, it wasn't difficult to schmooze. A handshake, a quick namedrop and I would be cemented in their minds. It was easy to pretend that was my only reason for attending but, truthfully, I needed an escape. I was working my ass off, striving to maintain solid B pluses in all of my Law classes. It was a lot of dense reading and rote memorization which was exhausting work, taking up hours of my day. It was rare that an opportunity to relax presented itself so I had to jump at the chance.

I spent the first half of the party introducing myself to some of Ralph Harrison's friends. I knew his father was looking to join the board at my father's firm so I kept him as my right-hand man. It didn't hurt that he had an aptitude for weaseling his way into any event which meant that I was always invited. I wasn't exactly an outsider but I was on the fringe. I had the possibility to push my way to the forefront of the social scene and I was determined to do it. This wouldn't be like Fielding; I was going to make sure of it. So, I was standing in a circle with Ralph and his friends when I noticed her.

She was standing just a few feet away, her own friends flanking her on both sides. I recognized her almost immediately. Bromwell was primarily comprised of prep school graduates and even if someone didn't go to Fielding, information was easily accessible. Especially if that information regarded attractive females. Samantha Orwell was a fellow sophomore and her family was definitely old money. Her great, great grandfather owned land on some type of oil reserve and they were lucky enough to hit the jackpot. I thought her father was Pat Orwell but it wasn't an uncommon last name so I wasn't entirely sure. She was watching me closely, her green eyes never straying far from my vicinity. My palms started to sweat and I told myself to cool it. _This can only end in disaster, Sloane. Use your brain. _But then she was making her way towards me, her white dress making her seem almost ethereal. Ralph elbowed me and smirked, "Good luck, man." And then the group dissipated, leaving me standing alone like a deer in the headlights.

As she got closer, I noticed her sleeves were comprised entirely of white lace and there was a thin black leather belt around her waist. She stopped in front of me, _slightly_ closer than a casual social distance. She smelled faintly of vanilla.

"Tom Sloane, right?"

Even her voice had an airy, lofty quality to it, "That depends on who's asking."

"Sam Orwell" she smiled, "I've seen you around campus. I don't believe we've ever had a nice chat."

By that point, it was already too late to turn back...even if I wanted to. She was purely intoxicating and I was ensnared as soon as we made eye contact. Polite conversation gave way to subtle flirtation and then full-fledged suggestions. We'd briefly discussed my romantic life but none of that mattered when her lips were pressed against my own. We both knew what we wanted; everything else was irrelevant. I couldn't even have the comfort of being drunk to soften the guilt. I was completely and totally sober and I was fully conscious of every decision I made. I brought her back to my apartment with total knowledge of my intentions. Clothes were shed and the heinous deed was done.

I stared down at my bowl of now soggy Cheerios, a pit forming in my stomach. I let one pretty girl overwhelm my senses in a matter of minutes. Was I that shallow? I had to admit, Sam wasn't intellectually stimulating in the slightest. But she didn't engage me to discuss politics and it was useless to assume that would be the outcome. A small noise caused me to look up.

It was Sam, dressed in my red flannel shirt. She leaned against the marble countertop, facing me, "You're even cuter in the morning."

I felt my face flush, "...Listen, Sam..."

She waved her hand, "I know. You have a girlfriend. Consider my lips sealed."

She strode her way further into the kitchen, pausing to examine the front of my fridge, "Is this her? She's cute."

I turned my chair around to see the photo she was referring to. It was a series of Polaroids which I took the liberty of taping together. Each one was from our trip to NYC. I couldn't help but smile at the memory, it had been freezing that day and she cursed me for bringing her out without consulting the weather channel. But she was happy, I could see it in her deep brown eyes as we raced around Times Square. I was happy too.

"Yeah...that's her."

She nodded, "What's her name?"

"Daria. It's Daria."


	7. Valentine's Day

**Now that Valentine's Day is upon us and I'm sick as a dog, I decided to write some cute/fluff in regards to the holiday. **

She sat comfortably on the worn sofa, her hands pressed over her eyes. She was sure she was smudging her glasses beyond belief but she had sworn to keep her eyes closed and she didn't trust herself not to peek. Her hands provided that extra barrier between her eyes and the rest of the living room. She could've just as easily removed her glasses to provide further visual distortion but everything happened so quickly that she barely had time to think. She heard the shuffling of feet and a few colorful explictives exploding through the silence she had been maintaining. She took that as a sign that her 'surprise', whatever that may be, was close to being unveiled. She heard the sound of something being dragged across the carpet and then a loud sigh. Finally, she was given the queue to look.

"Ta-da!"

She let her hands fall to her sides but she had to wipe off her glasses with the edge of her t-shirt before she could focus properly. Jane was standing next to an impressively sized bean bag chair resembling a slice of veggie pizza. She had taken the liberty of adorning it with a small pink bow made out of decorative ribbon and a sign that said 'I 3 U MORE THAN PIZZA'. Daria couldn't help but offer up a small smile. It was a pretty nice gesture even though Daria had voiced her Valentine's Day displeasures the previous afternoon. Jane also presented a chocolate bar which she hid behind her back. Daria took the candy, immediately opening it and taking a bite.

"You know how much I hate this 'holiday'. You didn't have to go through all the trouble."

"No trouble at all, amiga" Jane said, flopping down in the bean bag chair herself, "Plus, this gift is as much mine as it is yours."

"Now that's the spirit."

Daria flopped down on the chair next to Jane, partially sitting on her in the process. The cushion may have been slightly larger than average but it wasn't sufficient enough to accomodate two people, no matter how short one of the occupants was. They both sank a little further into the material, most of the chair complied although Jane's left leg was now touching the floor.

"Where do you expect me to put this? I've already filled up every inch of available space on my side of the room. Unless you're telling me to encroach on my roommate's territory as well?"

Jane shrugged, "You could always use it to replace your computer chair. Maybe the soft, squishy material will relax you. Like those stress relief toys."

"More like drive me insane. The pizza is a nice touch though. Where did you find this?"

"The internet is home to many fascinating wonders, Daria. There was one shaped like a UFO but I didn't want to blow your cover."

Daria smirked, "It's too late, my mission is already complete. My analysis has concluded that there are no signs of intelligent life anywhere. Time to go back to the home planet."

Jane feigned surprise, "But what about that charming young gentleman at the Mini Mart. Surely, his conventional wisdom is one that transcends the boundaries of time and space."

"That greasy-haired slimeball couldn't even spell the word 'wisdom' let alone impart any on inquiring minds. What part of 'not interested' didn't he understand?" she cringed.

Jane tapped her forehead thoughtfully, "Probably the 'not' part. But that's just an educated guess."

Daria sighed, leaning her head against Jane's shoulder, "Maybe you should've gotten me one of those ridiculous 'I'm Into Chicks' shirts."

"You could always borrow mine. Then again, I would rather outwit meatheads anyday than go toe-to-toe with any of the girls you would attract."

"Is that jealousy I detect?" Daria raised an eyebrow.

Jane's cheeks flushed bright pink. "No...I mean...I just know I can't hold a candle to any of the girls that are interested in you. They're always so much smarter than me, well-read, insightful. I just kinda stumble around with some vague semblance of comprehension."

"Don't compare yourself to them. I spend most of my time with you for a reason. If you were like all those other girls, I'd go my whole life searching for a Jane Lane. There's nobody else like you and that's what makes you so great."

"Uh...thanks?" Jane mumbled, her cheeks becoming even more inflamed.

Daria tilted her head and closed the distance between them, planting a light kiss on Jane's lips. She pulled back and chuckled at the goofy smile Jane now wore.

"I think I've filled my quota on sappy, romance for the day."

Jane reached up and wiped a smudge of red lipstick from Daria's mouth, "I guess I'll let you off easy."

"I have been spared" she laced her finger's with Jane's and resumed her comfortable position, "Now, about that UFO beanbag..."


	8. Forward Motion

**I've decided to give Trent a chapter seeing as he's been absent in my other one-shots. Enjoy! And as always, I don't own characters. **

The dull hum of the fluorescent lights were the only noise in the tiny convenience store. The well-stocked aisles remained uninhabited as they had for the majority of the evening. The inedible hotdogs spun under the heating lamp, a testament to the quality of the food provided. The lanky musician drummed his fingers against the counter, his dark eyes roaming from the rack of celebrity magazines to the 50 cent potato chip display. It was all the same. No matter where he went there was always a 24 hour mini mart that needed assistance. And he was the lone willing applicant. This had been his longest employment yet going on six months. He managed to gain a promotion from sales clerk to assistant manager, a worthless title that only came with a minor pay raise. He was too tired to complain. He needed the money and he wasn't about to risk gainful employment. He ran a hand through his shaggy black hair that was currently damp with sweat. The blistering heat from outside had forced its way into the building and it had definitely overstayed its welcome. The faulty air-conditioning system couldn't keep up with the summer heat wave and Trent was unfortunately feeling the full affect.

A small chime caused him to focus his attention on the front door. Floyd, a fellow employee, slowly strolled his way towards him. Trent knew that Floyd was fifteen minutes late but he never learned how to be authoritative. It was his nature to be easy-going and calm. His demeanor is what caused so many people to flock to him. He had already become a fast favorite with the rest of the staff. His lazy speech patterns were a welcome change to the constant stream of profanities uttered by their hot-headed manager. Floyd shrugged on his navy vest, his nametag already pinned to the right pocket, before flashing Trent a goofy grin.

"Traffic, man."

Trent gazed outside at the deserted parking lot and equally empty highway before shrugging, "It's cool. I don't have anywhere else to be."

Trent removed his own vest and draped it over his arm as he walked from behind the counter. Floyd took his position and gave a small wave as Trent exited the store. He stared up at the darkening sky and sighed. This was not what he imagined life would be.

* * *

He removed his sweat soaked gray t-shirt and dumped it into his hamper, the overflowing container already filled to capacity. He treaded lightly across his tan carpet, stepping over piles of clothes and crumpled pieces of paper. His unmade bed was covered with empty CD cases which he slowly collected and placed on his messy computer desk. He flopped back onto his pillow and breathed in deeply. The cool embrace of his sheets was just what he needed to relax. Not that his day had been particularly stressful, everyday life in general was beginning to take a toll on his nerves. The monotony of a typical work day was something he never dreamed he'd be a part of. Life snuck up on him and he wasn't prepared to deal with the responsibility. Here he was, twenty-seven years old, and working with a bunch of teenagers earning slightly over minimum wage. He ran a hand over his face, pausing to scratch the scruff on his chin. He always imagined himself playing sold out venues and traveling the country. It was a long shot, he knew it then, but it was his one and only dream.

He remembered when he first held a guitar in his hands. He couldn't have been older than four and the heavy instrument was more than twice his size but he knew even then that it felt right. It was rare that ideas made sense to him. The subjects he learned in school took longer than average to stick. Those concepts seemed too abstract to him, codes that he could barely decipher. Music was a different story. The chords and melodies were second nature to him. He could hear a piece of music and instantly know the key, predict the chord progression. It was as if something in his mind clicked. He played guitar whenever he got the chance, which turned out to be most of the day. He wasn't sure how he managed to graduate with his mediocre grades but once the tedium of high school was over, he spent hours writing songs. Lyrics weren't his forte, he never could wrap his head around poetry or prose, but he knew how he felt. What he couldn't convey accurately with words, his music could say for him.

Things were going well, at least he believed so. Mystik Spiral managed to get regular gigs at The Zon which were more than enough for Trent. He believed things would pick up on their own. Personal responsibility was a term he had often heard but never had to apply. His parents were always off on their own journeys of personal discovery, leaving him to fend for himself. Hell, he even spent a week sleeping in a tent in the backyard. It was the type of new age philosophy that he came to apply to his own life. His parents were doing fine and they lived on their own terms. There was no reason their success shouldn't transfer over to himself. He spent days sleeping in his bedroom with the shades drawn and nights playing to a (fairly) enthusiastic crowd. Everything was fine.

Until Janey went off to college. He was proud but a larger part of him couldn't understand her eagerness to attend _another _school. He was elated when he no longer had to put up with unreachable teachers and rigid class schedules. Janey wanted further instruction and he didn't see why. Her artwork was amazing, she was talented and her creativity knew no bounds. He often times watched her spend hours on a canvas, her brush weaving stunning patterns he could never duplicate. Janey didn't need any more help, she could make it on her own. He tried to relay this information to her but she let him know that it was her decision alone to make. It hurt him to pack her things into the car and drive her to BFAC, knowing he would finally be all alone. He helped her set up her dorm, his heart breaking after each item was assembled. He hugged her and told her that he would miss her and that he would be there if she needed anything. Then he went home and his life fell apart.

It didn't take long for the bank to seize the house. He'd never made a mortgage payment but he always assumed his parents were on top of it. Sure, he saw the URGENT letters in the mail but he never bothered to read him. It was legal jargon that he would never be able to decipher on his own so he placed them on the towering pile of mail where they were eventually lost. With the house gone and nowhere to go, he was forced to sleep in the car. The transition wasn't difficult in the beginning. The car was just as messy as his room and the backseat wasn't as uncomfortable as it looked. But then came the food situation and there was no way he could go without food. He considered calling Janey a number of times but he always talked himself out of it. HE was the older brother, HE was the adult. She was in Boston trying to study and live her life. He couldn't burden her with his problems. So, he packed what little he could fit into the car and left Lawndale.

He settled in a few places, never for longer than three or four months at a time. He tried and failed to establish some type of solo career. He didn't have the drive to keep pursuing and frankly, he felt his time slipping away. He wasn't getting any younger and he knew the window of opportunity was shut and locked. It pained him to admit that he would have to throw in the towel. It didn't take him long to settle on Boston as an area to stay. He wanted to be closer to Janey, no matter what. The mini mart wasn't his first choice but it was the only place that called him back. Without any other options, he had to accept the position. And so he stayed.

He turned to his side and stared at the photo adorning his nightstand. It was of himself and Janey when they were kids. They were out in the middle of a lake, the crystal clear water just reaching Trent's waist while Jane was up to her shoulders. He was only fifteen with dyed blue hair and a pair of dark tinted square sunglasses. Jane was ten years old and smiling widely, her bright eyes shining under the sunlight. Her black hair was slicked back with water and lines of mud were streaked across her cheeks like warpaint. Trent bore his own markings, two vertical lines down his forehead and an X on each cheek. He remembered how excited Jane had been to smear the mud across his face and he complied without protest. Even then, their bond was strong and unyielding. He felt more love and sympathy for her than any of his other siblings. She was the youngest and therefore the easiest for the rest of his family to ignore. She was often lost among the chaos while the older siblings fought amongst each other and their parents worked on their separate projects. Trent was more intuitive than the others and he found himself drawn to his youngest sister. He saw a fire in her eyes that was surprising for her age. She was tough because she had to be. He wanted to protect her even though he knew she was more than capable of holding her own. He became her guardian from the time she was able to crawl. He looked out for her and she for him. It was their unspoken agreement.

He found himself smiling fondly at the memory. After all these years, he still needed her. He wondered if she would ever need him again.

* * *

The mid-morning sun beat down on his head as he stood in the middle of the crowded park. He shielded his eyes with his hand and squinted out at the expanse of people. There was a group of preteens tossing a Frisbee back and forth, narrowly avoiding a collision with a mother and her three sons. An elderly couple sat near the fountain, each reading a newspaper and paperback novel respectively. Trent sighed before leaning back against an elm tree. He wasn't sure how long he had been waiting, he was never a good judge of time. He knew he had been late. He didn't drag himself into the shower until 11:30 and Jane had specified that they were to meet at noon. He didn't even stop to make coffee, something he was kicking himself for now. He could feel thin beads of sweat starting to roll down his neck and he grimaced. He didn't need his t-shirt getting soaked before he even went anywhere.

"TRENT!" the loud voice of his sister carried over to him from the opposite end of the park.

He squinted in the general direction of the sound as he tried to locate her form. It didn't take long for him to make out her tall, slender figure among the crowd. She was dressed in a loose fitting red tank top and a pair of denim shorts, her feet clad in their familiar black combat boots. Her black hair was tied back into a short ponytail, displaying her array of new ear piercings. She nearly sprinted the last few feet towards him before throwing her arms around his torso. He smiled as the scent of her vanilla perfume drifted towards him. He gently placed his hand on her head, his other arm wrapped around her.

"It's nice to see you too, Janey."  
She pulled back and grinned broadly, her bright blue eyes shining, "You look tan."

He shrugged, "It's hot."

Jane shook her head before turning to look back in the direction she had just come, "HURRY UP! WE'RE BURNING DAYLIGHT."

Another shorter figure was slowly making her way through the crowd, her own pair of boots stomping across the plush green grass. She was decidedly less enthusiastic than her friend, her mouth was twisted in annoyance and her large brown eyes were narrowed slightly. She stopped in front of the siblings, her breath coming in short puffs. Her cheeks were flushed a bright shade of pink and her bare shoulders were almost the exact same shade. She ran a hand through her thick auburn hair which was brushing the top of her shoulders. Unlike her friend, she didn't have the luxury of an elastic band to keep her hair at bay. She adjusted the top of her orange tank-top before turning her gaze on Jane.

"What genius decides to plan an outing during the hottest time of the day?"

"Lovely for you to join us, Ms. Morgendorffer. Took you long enough."

"Now you want me to drop from heat exhaustion. I'm seriously rethinking your priorities."  
Jane rolled her eyes, "Please, if I wanted to kill you I'd have done it years ago. And there would have been sharper objects involved."

She waved off the commentary before turning to the other member of their party, "Hey, Trent."  
He tried to hide his surprise. He hadn't seen Daria in quite some time and he was stunned by her change. She no longer wore glasses which gave him a clearer picture of her face. While he never thought she was ugly, he had no idea how attractive one simple change could make her. He blinked a few times as he tried to clear his head. She wasn't interested in him. There had been a brief period of time when she couldn't even speak around him. It was a high school crush, one he was well aware of but he didn't exploit. She was a teenager and he was in his twenties, not territory he wanted to explore further. Sure, he flirted lightly a few times just to see her fluster. He was, after all, a guy and he did like the attention. But he always knew that a relationship between them would never work. She was brighter than many people twice her age and he admired her attitude. She had morals and principles and she stuck to them, not letting anyone or anything compromise how she felt. She was honest; a quality he looked for in others. In essence, she was much smarter and wiser than he would ever be. She was unattainable.

"Hey, Daria. How are you?"  
She gingerly touched her arm, "I'm fine other than the fact that I'm turning into a lobster."

Jane tried to stifle her laughter, "I told you to wear sunscreen. Your porcelain skin is no match for the harsh rays of the sun. Should I buy you a parasol?"  
"Oh, go to hell."

* * *

Daria took a few sips of her chocolate milkshake as Jane continued her story.

"Anyway, it's great. Pierre is really adamant about putting some of my pieces up when he opens the gallery which means real live people will actually be bidding on my artwork! I'm freaking out. I mean, I'm just an apprentice. I never thought he would be so taken by my stuff. He even liked this sculpture I made out of twigs and pieces of glass on a whim. Sometimes I wonder if he's the insane one."

She finished her statement and ate a handful of cheese fries, leaving a small glob of nacho cheese near the corner of her mouth. Trent absentmindedly wiped it away with his thumb and she playfully punched his shoulder.

"Excuse me, sir. I'm perfectly capable of tending to my own messes. Trust me, I make enough of them."

"Sorry. Older brother and all. Hard to break the habit."

Daria smiled at the exchange between the two. It was rare to see Jane as carefree as she was with Trent. Even when her and Jane were together, she could never hope to reach the same status as he had. She didn't try to, she was happy with her position.

Trent finished off the rest of his Ultra Cola before focusing on Daria, "What about you?"

She reached over and stole one of Jane's fries, "Nothing special. I'm interning at a small publishing company. They mostly have me editing all the work they're too lazy to read. The majority of it is god-awful but if they appreciate my work, they'll hire me permanently. Until then my real income comes from the bookstore. It's quiet enough."

He smiled sadly, "I'm glad that you two are doing so well."

Jane's smile instantly faltered and Daria's face mirrored her dismal expression. Neither of them were strangers to Trent's misfortune but it was hard seeing him so upset. Jane always assumed that Trent would figure it out. She had faith that he would be able to make some kind of music career, even a marginal one. However, she quickly found out that he had given up years ago. He never told her explicitly and she knew it was probably because he was embarrassed. Nobody wanted to admit that their dreams would never come true. Daria, the more realistic of the two, doubted that Trent would get anywhere in the music industry with his lack of commitment. She knew well that any field of expression took more push if you wanted your foot in the door. Trent could barely get his feet out of bed. She never thought he would become a well-known musician but she believed he would accomplish something. He wasn't half-bad at bartending, something he'd done well when he had the opportunity. Trent didn't seem to be interested in the preposition and she never mentioned it. She reached across the table and gave his hand a small squeeze. He lifted his eyes to meet her gaze and she offered a tiny smile.

"Hey...cheer up. Things will work out."

Her slender fingers gently grazed his knuckles and he tried to ignore his heart pounding in his chest, "Yeah. Alright."

* * *

The sounds of his acoustic guitar filled his room as his calloused fingers expertly moved across the frets. The tune he was playing was engrained in his memory though he couldn't remember the lyrics anymore. 'Icebox Woman', that was the song. He chuckled as he thought about practicing in the basement with Mystik Spiral, the harsh dissonant sounds echoing around them. Nothing about them could be classified as harmonious but that's what he loved about the group. Their music wasn't exactly pleasing but it jarred the listener. He wanted to make people watch and the it was easiest way was to grab their attention. Sure, he could spend his life playing covers of popular rock songs or conforming to fit a mold but there was no lasting impression. He stopped playing once he realized he hadn't made an impression at all, not even a fleeting one. He placed the guitar back in its position against the wall before leaning his head against the foot of his bed.

His mind wandered back to Daria. Her words provided little encouragement but he was glad she made the attempt. She still cared about him, though not in the way he wished. He needed somebody like Daria around. She would be the force he needed to get in shape. She wouldn't tolerate his lackadaisical attitude or his languid approach towards everything. He needed a swift push in the right direction. It was a plan that would never work either. She wasn't his mother and she wasn't a babysitter. She would get tired of having to drag him through life. He would be dead weight. She deserved better than him. He wanted to be worthy of her even though he knew he never would be. It was a losing battle but he couldn't stop running the thought through his head. She had a lasting presence in his life. Besides Janey, she was the only one that put situations into perspective for him. She was always offering a word of advice or lending an ear. She was just as important as Janey and like Janey, he didn't want to lose her. He needed both of them but Janey would always be around. Daria was another story entirely. He wanted her closer.

* * *

The smell of bacon and maple syrup drifted from the now open doorway. Daria was leaning against the doorframe, holding a whisk dripping with batter. Her eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected guest.

"Trent?"

He ran a hand over the back of his head, "Uh...I hope I'm not interrupting."

She shook her head and stood back, allowing room for him to enter her apartment. He made his way into the middle of the room before briefly surveying the layout. Two leather couches were arranged neatly in her living room along with a glass coffee table and a small television set. A series of literary magazines were scattered across the table. Behind that was a small island and the kitchen where Daria was currently pouring batter into a waffle iron. She picked up a plate that was already holding a golden brown waffle and added a few strips of bacon and a spoonful of strawberries. She placed the plate on the table before returning to the kitchen to fill a small glass with orange juice which she then placed by the prepared breakfast place. She motioned for Trent to sit down at the table.

"Oh...I didn't mean to steal your breakfast."  
"It's fine. I always make too much anyway."

He obliged and took his seat while she handed him a fork and knife. He was slightly amused, he never pictured Daria as being one for anything domestic especially cooking. But he guessed a lot had changed since she was in high school. More than he could ever guess. He chewed on a piece of bacon as he mulled over what to say. He came over on a whim after getting Jane to provide the address. Luckily, Jane was in a hurry so she didn't ask questions though he expected a phone call later in the evening. He had no idea what his true intentions were. He wanted to ask her honest opinion about the direction his life was taking, something he was sure Jane would only sugarcoat to spare his feelings. But there was another reason he was sitting at her kitchen table and he was certain it would only lead to awkward tension. He had to give it a chance; he had nothing left to lose.

Daria took a seat across from him, her plate mirroring his own. She procured a bottle of syrup and pushed it in his direction.

"I seem to have forgotten the most important part."

"Thanks."

She watched him closely as he applied a healthy portion to his waffle, "So, what brings you to my cave? Not that I mind the company but I'm usually deep into my writing at this time and it takes much more than a doorbell to pry me from my computer."

He could feel his palms start to sweat. _Better start off easy first, "_I came to talk to you."

"About?"

"About me."  
She paused, her fork suspended in midair, "Um...okay. I don't know how I fit into this equation..."

He cleared his throat, "I needed someone to be honest with me. And, you're the most honest person I know."

"I guess that's one useful quality of mine. I can't promise there won't be any emotional trauma. I'll try my best."

"Okay. I'll live."

She raised an eyebrow, "Well?"

He took a deep breath before starting, "I guess I've been thinking about my life, ya know? Where I'm going. I've been thinking about it for awhile but yesterday kinda put the whole thing into focus. I don't know what I'm doing anymore and I feel really...what's that word...stagnant?"

She nodded confirmation and he continued, "Okay, yeah. I'm stuck in this hole and I want to change but I'm not sure where to start. Do you think it's hopeless? Do I even have a chance?"

She focused her eyes on his, "Trent, you're not hopeless. You're talented and you're smarter than you give yourself credit for. Maybe the music thing never took off but that might be for a good reason. I'm not a firm believer of fate but there's something else out there for you. Don't ask me what because I'm not clairvoyant either and it's ultimately your choice. But whatever it is, you have to find it and then you have to put forth _effort_. A foreign concept, I'm sure". She punctuated the last part with a sly smile.

He scratched his chin and took a moment to absorb her words. It was what he expected her to say but the words meant much more when he got them directly from the source.

"...I guess that means I probably need nicer clothes."

She rolled her eyes, "I think that's the last thing you need to worry about. Any other way I can use my expertise?"

This was the part he was dreading. He took a long gulp of his orange juice and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He steeled himself before he spoke again, "Uh...this is going to be kinda difficult. Okay...how do you feel about me?"

Her eyes widened slightly, "...In what way...?"

"Come on, Daria."

She inhaled sharply, "Trent, I really don't think-"

"I know it's silly and maybe even pretty dumb but I just need to hear something. Anything."

"The truth? Okay, here goes. I used to only find you physically appealing but I guess that grew into something more. Honestly, it was a crush. I had a crush on my best friend's cool, rock star older brother; pretty cliché. Anyway, Trent, we're in two very different places in life and that matters. I care about you and I always will. I just don't think that anything should happen between us...at least not right now."

He offered a short, "hm" before falling into silence. The blow hit harder than he expected it to. It was a lost cause. He stared down at his hands, ignoring the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. He felt a hand pressing against his shoulder and he turned to see her standing over him. He opened his mouth to speak but he never uttered a word. She leaned in and softly pressed her lips against his. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer.

The moment only lasted a few seconds as she pulled away quickly.

"...Though I have always wanted to try that."


	9. Just Friends

**Another Daria/Jane piece. Surprisingly, these are easy to write. As always, Daria and all characters belongs to the respective owners. **

"Daria! Phone!"

Quinn's voice cut through the silence I had been trying hard to maintain. I already knew who was on the other line and I had no desire to hear them. I sat up in my bed and counted to ten. Sure enough, Quinn yanked open my bedroom door and glared at me. The cordless phone was gripped tightly in her right hand.

"Have you gone deaf?"

"Speak up, Quinn. I can't quite hear you."

She rolled her eyes, "Ha ha. Are you going to take this or not?"

I swallowed hard and tried to keep my voice level, "...I'm busy."

She glanced around my room and then at me, "Whatever."

She left, slamming the door behind her. I rolled back onto my side and stared at the padded wall. It had been two days since the...incident and I was still reeling from the affects. Everything had changed now. How could I just answer the phone and pretend nothing ever happened? I couldn't even sort out my feelings. I wanted to believe it had all been a big mistake. A misunderstanding. An accident. But I wasn't stupid. Things like that didn't just _happen_. I wanted to blame it all on her. We were doing just fine. College was going great. Nothing had changed. Then came break and she had to complicate everything. _She_ was the one that initiated. I was caught completely off guard...wasn't I? I pressed my pillow over my head and screamed. No. This wasn't happening. We were friends. That was all. Just friends.

* * *

'Sick, Sad World' was playing on TV as I sat cross-legged on the couch. It was a repeat but there wasn't anything else to do. Mom had rushed off to deal with some last minute emergency at work. Quinn was shopping with Stacy. Dad was out doing god knows what. I had the house to myself, not that I was complaining. I needed to be alone. As soon as the thought entered my head, the doorbell rang. I groaned and rolled off the couch. Of course I couldn't relax for more than fifteen minutes. I pulled the door open, half expecting to see a delivery truck. Dad was ordering 'exotic' spices again. Instead, I came face-to-face with the very person I'd been trying to avoid: Jane. I contemplated shutting the door but I was frozen.

She wasn't wearing any make-up and she was still wearing her pajamas. I tried to ignore how puffy and red-rimmed her pale blue eyes were. She was fixing me with a hard stare and I wanted to look away. But my body wouldn't comply.

"I called you."

I bit my lip, "...Yeah..."

"I called you five times."

I opened my mouth to protest but the look in her eyes made me reconsider.

She ran a hand through her hair, "Listen. I've been thinking a lot about what happened."

"It's fine." I said, waving my hand, "It was just a mistake. You were drunk. We'll just forget it, okay?"

"A mistake?"

I gulped, "...Yes. It's okay. I...uh...I know you didn't mean it so..."

"Oh my god" she laughed, "You're really doing this?"

"Doing what?"

She gestured to nothing in particular, "This. This fake bullshit where this becomes some 'funny' story at a cocktail party. I wasn't drunk, Daria. And neither were you."

"...I don't want to talk about this anymore. Okay?"

"Oh that's great. Let's just drop it because you don't want to admit the truth. Well, I'm not going to leave."

I shook my head, "Jane, please-"

She maneuvered past me and shut the door. She was standing right in front of me now and I still had no hope of moving. My feet were glued to the carpet.

"We made out, Daria. I know and you know that this wasn't some "drunken mishap". This...it meant something."

I wanted to run, "No it didn't. It didn't _mean_ anything. _You_ were the one that kissed me."

"Here we go, blame it all on me. I didn't _force_ you to do anything."

I finally turned away so I was facing the stairs, "What do you want?"

She grabbed my hand and I tried to quell the storm of emotions that were stirring. This wasn't happening.

"I want you to fucking talk to me!"

I swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat, "...we are talking..."

"Daria."

"What?! What do you want me to say?!" I said, turning back to face her, "Do you want me to tell you that I wanted to kiss you? Or do you want me to admit that I've always had feelings for you? Or maybe I should say that I...I... I don't know what to do anymore..."

I could feel the tears stinging the back of my eyes, "This can't happen, okay? It can't."

She reached out and brushed my cheek, "I love you, Daria."

"Please, we can't do this. I can't tell my parents...or Quinn. Please just do this for me."

She leaned in close to me and pressed her lips against mine. Part of me was shouting to break way but I found myself wrapping my arms around her neck. I did love her whether I wanted to admit it or not. And that was killing me.

I forced myself to stop, "...No. No, I..."

I broke away from her and raced up the stairs two at a time. I ignored her calling me and I retreated to my bedroom, locking the door behind me. The tears were rolling freely now and I sank to the floor.

I wanted to be with her but there was no way I could deal with the problems that would come from the relationship. I couldn't compromise everything. No matter how much it hurt.

I heard the doorknob turn and then she was knocking.

I couldn't open the door because then I would have to face the truth again.

And I wanted to stay in denial.

We were friends. We had to be friends.

Just friends.

**Reviews are appreciated! **


	10. Hot Daria

**AU. The title says it all. I've seen quite a few of these and I thought I'd mess around with the concept. None of these characters belong to me. **

"Come on, babe. No one can refuse the QB!"

The short figure slammed her locker short before fixing the goofy quarterback with a pointed glare.

"Kevin, I've said it before and I'll say it again. I'm not interested."

He leaned in close, ensuring her personal space was nonexistent, "Aw, babe. All the chicks love the QB..."

"KEVY!" a high-pitched squeal rang through the halls.

Kevin gulped before backing away. Before he could even make it a few feet, his path was blocked by a perky blonde cheerleader. She stared him down, freezing him in his spot, before fixing her eyes on the other girl. She was small and thin with very discernible 'assets'. Brittany was sure she had her beat in _that_ department, however, the girl was naturally beautiful. She was most envious of the girl's long auburn hair. It was never styled yet it held more shine and body than her own. She wasn't a fan of this girl and she did NOT want her around Kevin.

"Kevy...Daria..."

Daria barely glanced in her direction, "Brittany. Please try to keep your dog on a leash. Or invest in a shock collar."

Brittany's face twisted into a scowl, "My Kevy is no dog you...you...slut!"

Daria rolled her eyes before executing an exaggerated yawn, "Listen, I have better things to do than your boyfriend."

She smirked as Brittany's face turned an even darker shade of red. She turned around and started to walk away before the cheerleader could offer a rebuttal. Just another normal day at Lawndale High.

* * *

Daria watched as her friend moved her paintbrush across the blank canvas, creating a series of thin red spirals.

"No casualties today?"

Daria leaned back against Jane's pillow as she went through the TV channels, "Almost. But I don't think my boots could leave a dent in Kevin's thick skull."

Jane laughed, "You have to give the guy credit. At least he's persistent."

"Persistent irritation. Just what I need to get through the day."

"You can't blame him. What with your stretchy t-shirts and all" Jane pointed her paintbrush at her friend's green shirt.

Daria instinctively crossed her arms over her chest and tried to hide her face with her hair, "There's nothing wrong with it. It's just a t-shirt!"

"I'm only saying, amiga. You can't pretend you don't know."

"I'm not pretending. I just don't like to draw any MORE attention. I guess that approach isn't working either..."

Jane grinned, "If I were you, I'd use that to my advantage. Think about it, you could overtake Quinn."

Daria shuddered, "No thanks. She hates me enough as it is. If I started encroaching on her territory, she'd probably try to have me excommunicated."

"Yikes. I take it she isn't too fond of your...uh..." Jane struggled to find appropriate words.

"She hates that she'll always be "cute" and never "hot". It also doesn't help that my grades are consistently better than hers. She can't even hold that over my head."

Jane feigned sadness, "All the beauty and the brains? How selfish of you."

"Nobody ever said she wasn't pretty" she shrugged, "She just always has to one-up me. She wants to be the prettiest and the smartest and the most popular. I had to let her have something."

"Ah ha. So that's why you're friends with me."

Daria rolled her eyes, "Shut up and paint."

Jane moved to return to her canvas when there was a small knock on the door. She laid down her paintbrush and pulled it open to reveal her brother. Trent was only dressed in a pair of black boxer shorts decorated with red flames. He held an empty milk jug in his hand.

"Janey, we're out of milk."

Jane tried to contain her laughter once she saw how flushed Daria was.

"Trent, there are these things called clothes..."

He scratched his bare chest, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Finally, he noticed Daria was in the room.

"Oh, sorry. Hey, Daria."

She mumbled a barely audible, "hey" and tried not to stare.

Jane watched the exchange with mild amusement. Out of all the guys in Lawndale, Daria was attracted to her older brother. It provided Jane with the perfect leverage in any argument and it always rendered Daria speechless. It was her ace and she exploited it whenever she could.

"Uh...the milk."

Jane took the empty container from his hand and set the jug on her nightstand, "You'll just have to cease your dairy intake until we get some more."

"Right. Thanks. See ya, Daria." He exited the room and made his way down the hall to his own bedroom.

Daria's cheeks were bright pink, "...yeah...see ya..."

Jane closed the door behind him and fixed Daria with a devilish grin, "So, when are you finally going to abandon your morals and seduce him?"

Daria placed her head in her hands, "I hate you."

* * *

"Could you at least try to cover up?"

Daria lifted her eyes from the page she was reading and stared at her red-haired younger sister.

"What?"

Quinn nibbled on a celery stick and rolled her eyes, "I mean really."

Daria looked down at what she was wearing: a plain black tank top and a pair of blue jeans. Nothing spectacular and certainly not something worthy of changing (at least she believed so).

"Quinn, I'm reading."

Quinn huffed, "Daria, you are NOT going to the boardwalk in that shirt."

"Would you rather me wear a bikini?" she sniffed.

Quinn's eyes widened, "NO. N-O. It's bad enough all the guys at school are always asking me about you. I don't need you ruining my chances with cute surfers."

Daria laid down her book and twirled a strand of hair around her pinky, "Like maybe they'll show me some of those cool tricks and take me for a ride in their Jeep. Gee, you're predictable."

"Shut up! At least guys actually want to _talk_ to me unlike you."

Daria scoffed, "Excuse me? We both know who's most likely found in the backseat of cars and it's NOT me."

Quinn scowled before angrily swirling a carrot stick in hummus, "For your information, I don't even slow dance until after the fifth date."

"The same rules apply to me. Don't make generalized assumptions based on something you don't even know."

Quinn stifled a laugh, "The whole school knows."

"The whole school knows what?"

"...About what happened under the bleachers..."

Daria could feel her irritation slowly starting to increase, "Spit it out, Quinn."

She sighed, "Let's just say you've spent some time on your knees with a certain quarterback and you weren't practicing drills."

Daria nearly choked, "You're kidding?"  
Quinn shook her head, "Nope. At least that's what he told the whole football team. And of course I heard from Sandi who heard it from Brandy who..."

"Spare me the details of the rumor mill. Why the hell haven't I heard anything about this?"

"Probably because it's Saturday and the news just got out yesterday. You'll be the talk of the school come Monday."

"That didn't happen" she shook her head, "That would _never _happen."

Quinn stood up to place her plate in the sink, "Maybe so but its Kevin's word against yours."

"You're not telling me YOU believe this?"  
Quinn turned towards Daria, "I don't believe anything. That doesn't mean the rest of them won't."

Daria stared down at her hands as she mulled over this new information. She was going to murder Kevin.

* * *

Jane held a hand over her mouth in an attempt to muffle her laughter. Her friend's over exaggerated sultry tone was too much for her to handle. Daria pressed a hand over the telephone receiver and held back laughter of her own.

"Shh! You're going to break my concentration."

Jane mimed zipping her lips shut and Daria returned to her phone call.

"Yes? Kevin? It's Daria. I heard all those things you were saying about me. I was just wondering if you wanted them to be true."

Jane's eyes were watering but she didn't let a laugh escape her lips. Daria smiled as she watched her friend.

"Of course, Kevin. We can do whatever you want. You are the QB."

Daria almost gagged at her last line. _Think of the end result, Morgendorffer. He'll be crying for weeks._

"Great. Let's meet behind the bleachers after school. I'll be waiting."

She quickly hung up the phone and both her and Jane doubled over.

"Oh my god, that was amazing. Have you done this before?"

Daria shook her head, "No. But guys are predictable. It's not difficult to figure out what they want to hear."

"You still haven't let me in on this master plan of yours."

Daria smirked, "Oh, you'll see soon enough."

* * *

Kevin Thompson was standing in the spot he was supposed to...at least he thought so. He wasn't entirely sure, the minor details were fuzzy. What he did know was that his charm finally worked. He knew it was only a matter of time, none of the girls could resist him. He was practically the king of Lawndale High. Nobody could do better than the QB. He brushed off the front of his yellow jersey and looked through the gaps in the bleachers. He could see the field and part of the goal posts but nothing else. He had no idea how long he had been waiting but it was slowly getting darker. He scratched his head thoughtfully. _She did say the bleachers...or maybe it was the tennis court? _

"Hi Kevin."

He turned around, expecting to see one girl but coming face to face with another. It was Theresa, a member of the varsity cheerleaders. Now, he was _definitely_ confused. He could've sworn it was Daria that called. It HAD to be her because she knew about all that stuff he told the other guys on the team. Theresa wasn't even part of the story. He was puzzled but not upset. Theresa wasn't a bad substitute, even though he'd tested those waters a long time ago.

"Are you just going to stand there? This was your idea!"

He ran a hand over the back of his head, "Huh? No, it was YOUR idea. I mean...it was someone's idea. I mean..."

She rolled her eyes, "Don't think _too_ hard. Your hair might catch on fire."

"Don't be silly. There's no fire around here." He chuckled.

Theresa opened her mouth but another voice permeated the air. Kevin instinctively gulped and gazed around. It was a voice he knew well, one he'd come to both love and fear. She was standing between him and Theresa before he even got a chance to reorient himself. Her icy blue eyes were narrowed into thin slits and her hands were resting on her hips. Theresa looked as baffled as Kevin did.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, HM?!"

"I...but...she...the phone...I..." he stammered.

She grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him towards her, "I have had it up to here with you, Kevy! I'm lucky someone was kind enough to tell me all about your little plan!"

"But babe-"

"Don't you 'babe' me! I'm no idiot!"

He was too nervous to think of anything else to say. He had no idea _what_ was going on anymore. Theresa quickly made her escape while Brittany was focused on her first target. She mouthed 'call me' before rushing off. Kevin started to smile but a swift kick to the groin remedied that expression. He doubled over in pain while Brittany leered over him.

"DO YOU THINK THIS IS A JOKE, MISTER?! I've had it! We're finished!"

He slowly scrambled to stand, "Aw, babe!"  
She turned her nose in the air and stomped off. He limped after her as fast as his condition would allow.

"BABE! Wait up!"

Two unseen figures stood a few feet away from the scene, each wearing matching bemused expressions.

"Please tell me you got that." Daria turned to Jane who was holding up a video camera.

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss that for the world."

Daria watched as Kevin and Brittany disappeared across the field with a renewed sense of assurance. For the time being, she managed to get Kevin AND Brittany off her back. The revenge part was just a bonus. It had been easy enough to trick Theresa, she was almost as dumb as Kevin was. The hard part had been sending Brittany the anonymous tip. Luckily, Quinn wasn't too particular about where she kept her address book. Daria found her phone number within minutes and Jane handled the rest. Brittany didn't take much convincing. Kevin's infidelity was common news to the majority of Lawndale High and Brittany herself was included in that faction. Kevin's humiliation was recorded on tape for her to watch at her leisure. Satisfaction was very sweet indeed.

* * *

"So, what's your name?"

Daria glared at the tattooed stranger that decided to stand next to her.

"Not interested."

He leaned in closer so she got a nice whiff of cigarette breath, "Come on, don't be like that."

"I'll give you five seconds to get the hell away from me."

"What's going on here?" Jane returned from her trip to the restroom.

"This guy apparently never learned that 'no means no'."

Jane draped an arm around Daria's shoulder before addressing the stranger, "Hey, she's seventeen."

All the color drained from his face, "Uh...it's cool. I..uh..."

He let his sentence trail off before he made a beeline towards the bar. Daria gave Jane her typical half-smile.

"It was almost DEFCON one."

"Really? I should've waited, I don't think you've ever gotten past level four."

Daria returned her attention to the stage but Mystik Spiral was already replaced by another band. She gazed around the crowded club but she still couldn't find anyone familiar.

"Where did they go?"

"Looking for someone in particular?" Jane smirked.

Daria tried to look indignant but the redness of her cheeks made her look like a wounded puppy, "NO."

"Are you sure? Because he's walking this way."

Sure enough, Trent was weeding his way through the crowd and heading straight in their direction. Daria could feel goosebumps on the back of her neck. _He's just another stupid guy. That's all. _The way her heart was threatening to burst out of her chest told a different story. Trent approached them, his dark eyes glancing at Jane and then at Daria.

"Hey Janey, Daria."

Daria could only utter a whispered, "Hi."

Jane elbowed her which only caused her face to redden more. Trent seemed oblivious to the exchange.

"How'd you like the set?"

It took Daria a moment to realize he was asking her specifically. It took everything she had not to bolt for the exit. _Would you like me to tell you before or after my ears have stopped bleeding? "_...It was good."

Jane shot her an incredulous look which she tried to ignore. She knew that Jane was wondering the same thing that she was: why didn't you say what you really meant? Daria was actually nervous about upsetting Trent, a feeling that she never had before. She was afraid that he wouldn't appreciate her sarcastic commentary as much as Jane. It pained her to admit it but she _wanted_ him to like her. After all the times she spent trying to get guys to leave her alone. Now, she actually wanted one around.

Trent ran a hand over his chin, "Yeah. We played everything in a new key. Ya know, for a change."

_So that's why I kept thinking about a dying cat, "_...Cool."

A smile was playing on the corner of Jane's mouth but whatever she was thinking, she kept it to herself.

"Me and the guys are heading to Cluster Burger, if you two want to come."  
Daria started to protest but Jane talked over her, "Of course. Daria was just talking about how hungry she was."

Jane smiled as Daria gave her a glare that could kill.

"Cool. They're outside loading The Tank."

Daria hid her discomfort. She hated that van. There were no seats and she always ended up crammed between an amp with Jane's elbow digging into her ribs. Not to mention the fact that there was almost always moldy food or crushed soda cans. Trent led the way towards the front of The Zon and Daria reluctantly followed. Jane wasn't far behind and she made sure she always had a clear view of her best friend. These were the only times she could tease her; it was hilarious to see her so flustered.

The Tank was already waiting with the backdoor wide open. Jesse was fast asleep in the back with his head resting against the opposite door. Daria failed to understand how he could wear a leather vest with no shirt in the middle of November. If he was going for a rock star look, she couldn't see it. Jane climbed in first and scoped out the area before motioning for Daria to enter. She clambered into the back and slammed the door shut. She checked the ground before she sat down. She would never forget the time she sat on a moldy sandwich and ruined her only decent pair of jeans. With the cost clear, she sat down, leaning her back against an oversized amp. Trent slid into the driver's seat and started the car. The sound of a poorly recorded metal CD blared through the speakers.

"He's got the right idea." Jane pointed towards Jesse.

"There's no way I could sleep in here."

"Even if Trent was there?"

Daria frowned, "Have I told you how much I hate you?"

Jane shifted away from a guitar case, "A few times."

"Yeah, well, the statement still rings true."

* * *

Cluster Burger was especially crowded this late in the evening. Daria would rather be home reheating a piece of lasagna. She'd filled her quota on human interaction for the evening. Unfortunately, it was too late to leave and she couldn't stay in the van. Unless she wanted to listen to Jesse's unbearable snoring. Instead, she was sitting in a booth with Jane, trying to ignore the stares of a group of guys sitting in front of them. Trent, Nick, and Max were ordering so she had a clear view of them. She was used to it happening whenever she was out in public but it didn't make it any less irritating.

"This jumbo burger better be as delicious as you claim."

Jane continued to arrange toothpicks into a large square, "I promise, this will all be worth it. Plus, Trent will be a witness. You should be excited."

Daria sighed, "You know, this wouldn't be so funny if I actually did half the things you suggested."  
Jane raised an eyebrow, "Please, you can't even joke around with Trent. Face it, amiga. You don't have the guts."  
"Oh? You don't think I have the guts?"

Jane laughed, "No offense but you're all bark and no bite. Like a Chihuahua."

"You're calling me a Chihuahua?" she scoffed.

The musicians returned to the table, each carrying a tray loaded with fries, burgers, and drinks. Daria sat up straighter and turned towards Trent.

"Would you mind sitting next to me?"

Jane regarded her friend quizzically but she moved to the other side of the booth next to Max. Trent took Jane's old seat without question, handing Daria her portion of the food. Jane was watching her friend closely. She had no idea what she had up her sleeve.

The next few minutes passed by in silence as everyone dug into their meals. Jane suspected that Daria's little plan would never be put into action. _I should've made a bet on this._

There was a sudden splash and half the table was covered in crushed ice and coke. The majority of the beverage ended up in Trent's lap. Daria clamped her hands over her mouth and her eyes widened.

"I'm so sorry!"

Trent barely seemed fazed, "It's cool. I needed to wash these jeans anyway."

Daria quickly grabbed a handful of napkins, "No, I've got it!"

It was then that Jane realized she certainly would've lost this bet.

Daria was leaning forward, ensuring that Trent had a clear view of her chest. She used the napkins to soak up most of the mess but she let her hand linger near his thigh. Jane watched the exchange with her mouth dropped open. For the first time, Trent was the one that was flushed. He opened and closed his mouth several times but he never uttered a word.

"God, I'm so clumsy. I hope I can make this up to you."

Trent cleared his throat, "...I have to use the bathroom."

He rushed off towards the men's room leaving the others at the table. Daria smirked at Jane before standing up herself.

"I'll be outside."

Daria exited the fast food restaurant and it didn't take long for Jane to catch up to her.

"How?!"

"What?"  
"How did you do that?! One minute you're tongue-tied and the next you're practically sitting in his lap?!" Jane was almost screaming.  
Daria shrugged, "I've said it before: guys are predictable. I just happen to be a decent actress."

Jane leaned back against the side of the building, "My poor, innocent brother."

"Innocent my ass. I just thoroughly embarrassed myself to prove a point. I think I'm the poor soul."

Jane laughed, "Hey, at least now you know he's interested."

"Still think I'm all bark and no bite?" Daria glanced over at her.

"You're definitely a bit of both."


	11. What If

**Here's another Dye! Dye! My Darling AU (I promise, no more of these). Thanks to 917brat for all the reviews and for offering the idea. **

I never imagined my first kiss. I didn't spend my free time thinking about fictional romantic partners in 'magical' situations. But I did always believe it would be something worth remembering. Unfortunately, it would be for all the wrong reasons.

I didn't anticipate the moment. There was no build-up or momentum. No first date or second or third. I didn't even have the comfort of a room. If I did imagine my first kiss, it wouldn't take place in a beat-up Jaguar and the person of interest wouldn't be my best friend's boyfriend. But I didn't have to imagine it because it was all horribly and entirely real.

There was a sinking feeling in my chest when I noticed him parked outside my house. I was still reeling from the confrontation with Jane and I was out of steam. He was the last person I wanted to have a heartfelt conversation with. It seemed that nothing would go my way that evening. My life had been a whirlwind of confusion and anxiety ever since he came into the picture. Things were simple with Jane and I. She was my best friend and I was hers. We didn't fight like everyone else. I could count the number of arguments we'd had on one hand and none of them were particularly damaging. Jane was the first person I trusted wholeheartedly. Despite all the changes in my life, Jane had been the one constant keeping me sane. It only took a few short months for all of that to fly out the window.

I _never_ had feelings for anyone. At least not romantic ones. I had no interest in dating and I was fine that way. Jane was the exact opposite and it provided the perfect balance. Watching her go through the ups and downs of relationship nightmares was almost like living them myself. It was more than enough for me. The thought of being in a serious relationship seemed ridiculous. Tom Sloane managed to shift my perspective in a matter of weeks.

I didn't plan on developing feelings for him. I hated his guts. He was too bold, too forward. Trips to Pizza King became three-party affairs and I wasn't used to being a third wheel. I wanted Jane to see what an annoyance he was. Instead, for the first time, she didn't agree. I was her best friend, not this guy who she just met. What was so great about him? I wasn't jealous, just annoyed. I was being shut out of her life and it was all his fault. I wasn't sure exactly when the shift happened. I started tolerating his presence more and more until we were spending hours talking on the phone about foreign films.

It wasn't right. I understood enough about relationships to know that. You didn't spend hours talking to a girl if you weren't interested. It was difficult to push him away but I did it because I cared more about Jane than myself. I wouldn't jeopardize our friendship. I wouldn't stab her in the back. But he just kept showing up.

If he wasn't at Jane's he was popping up on my walks home from school, leaving me voicemails. God, he even managed to find me at that stupid parade. It was hard to drown my feelings when he wouldn't let them sink. All I wanted to do was be a faithful friend. Why wouldn't he let it go? I rebuffed him at every turn and he still persisted. In another universe, his determination would've been admirable. But in this universe, his attempts were unsettling. He had no qualms about contacting me even though he was spoken for. He didn't seem to care that I was Jane's friend. It was as if Jane didn't even exist.

I wouldn't be a part of whatever he had planned. At least, that was what I had hoped. Somehow, I got roped in anyway. Jane was becoming suspicious and I couldn't blame her. His intentions were obvious. Could she tell that I liked him? She had to know that I would never act on my feelings. I'd never seen Jane so upset before. She wasn't acting like herself at all. The hair dying fiasco was just the tip of the iceberg. She knew I didn't know anything about dye or hair or painting. It was a test. A test that I failed miserably.

"_You did this on purpose! To take Tom away from me!"_

How could she say that?! Didn't she know I cared about her more than any boy? It hurt to hear her say such horrible things about me. I would never do something so deceitful and she should've known that. I knew she was just paranoid...and maybe some of the things she said were true. But I would never go so far as to destroy the only friendship I had. Everything was a mess and I had no idea how to fix it. I walked home from Jane's that night feeling like I'd been hit by a train.

_"Well, then, hair apology accepted. Life goes on."_

What did that mean? Were we still friends? I wanted to believe that she had completely forgiven me but her choice of words made me reconsider. Life goes on? It sounded so final as if I was now cut out of her life forever. My chapter was over and she was ready to make new memories with other people. People that weren't me. I knew I needed to give her space but her words were eating away at me. I couldn't tell what she really meant and that scared me. I didn't even see the car at first, I was too busy mulling over my thoughts.

"Hey."

His voice was as familiar to me as Jane's by this point. I turned to see him sitting in his car with the passenger window rolled down halfway.

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you. Your sister said you weren't home so I figured I'd wait out here."

He had deliberately come directly to my doorstep? This wasn't good at all. I glanced back towards my front door.

"...Do you want to come in?"

His eyes widened, "No! There are girls in there rubbing stuff on each other's cheeks and making animal noises. I got kind of scared."

_Stop smiling! _Why did this have to happen now? I wasn't ready to deal with this. I would probably _never _be ready to deal with it. But now I didn't have much of a choice.

"That's just the opening rites of the Blushathon. At least you got out before the rhythmic chanting."

"Oh yeah. I think I saw that on the Discovery Channel."

What now?

"Why don't you get in the car?" It was as if he could read my mind.

I sighed but I opened the door and slid into the passenger's seat. Just sitting in the front seat seemed like a betrayal. This was a spot reserved specifically for Jane. I was always relegated to the backseat. The shift was just a subtle reminder of what was really going on. He wanted me to take her place. And here I was.

I cleared my throat, "Did you want to talk about Jane?"

He loosened his grip on the steering wheel, "Nope."

My heart was threatening to burst out of my chest, "Oh...then what?"

"About our situation."

There it was. Out in the open. I couldn't play dumb anymore and I couldn't ignore it and hope that it would just go away. I had to confront the issue head on.

"I don't know what you mean. We have no situation." I shook my head, "Leave me alone! I...I've gotta go."

I reached for the door but he placed a hand on my shoulder causing me to stop. _Just get out of the car. _My body wouldn't comply.

"Wait. Why is everyone so mad at me?"

"Why? _Why? _Because I moved to this town and I knew immediately that I'd be a total outcast. And in the one moment of good luck I've had in my entire life, I met another outcast who I could really be friends with and not have to feel completely alone!" I could feel the tears stinging the back of my eyes but I fought them back, "And then you came along and screwed the whole thing up!"

He sighed, "...All I did was meet a girl who I thought was cool and I went out with her for awhile. We started to get bored with each other. It happens all the time...it's nobody's fault."

"Oh yeah? Would you still be bored with her if I weren't around?"

"Probably. And more to the point, she'd be bored with me." He shrugged, "It's got nothing to do with you."

It had _everything_ to do with me.

I forced myself to look into his eyes, "Good. Because I'm not interested in you. And I'd be stabbing my friend in the back if I even considered it."

Saying it made me feel a lot better. It was the truth. Well, partly the truth. I _was_ interested but I'd never consider it. A relationship with him was something that would never happen. I could never be happy knowing Jane didn't trust me anymore.

He maintained the eye contact, "Exactly. And what kind of a jerk would that make me?"

I continued to stare because I couldn't believe what I heard. He was _agreeing_ with me? After all the attempts and the flirtation. I was baffled. It couldn't be this easy, not after all I went through. No, there was something else...

Before I could figure out what was going on, he kissed me. It was so sudden that at first, I didn't know what was happening. But then I understood and my body acted of its own volition. I'd never kissed anybody before. Nobody had ever kissed _me_ before. It was nice...

No! It was all wrong! I wasn't supposed to be doing this. I was supposed to say goodbye and walk away. I wasn't supposed to be lip-locked with my best friend's boyfriend. Jane's boyfriend. Oh no. Jane.

I pulled away, "Dammit! Dammit, dammit, dammit!"

"...I liked it too."

I was upset and confused but I was mostly angry. Angry at him for tricking me into his car. For manipulating me this entire time. I knew Tom, he was crafty. I could just imagine him formulating his plan on the drive over. He knew he could win me over with phony apologies and well-placed jokes. He read me like a book and that drove me insane. God, was I so predictable? So gullible? So desperate? No. I wouldn't let him win. Especially not when the stakes were so high.

I slapped him, hard, leaving a bright red handprint on his left cheek. He was stunned into silence.

"That's not funny! God, I'm so stupid! I actually thought you wanted to talk about Jane. I actually thought you understood how much I care about her. I thought you would care enough not to do this."

He pressed a hand against his cheek, "Ow! Look, Daria, I like you. A lot. Hell, a whole lot. Jane's just-"

"Jane's just what?" I glared.

"She's not like you. You're smart, you're witty."

"So you think Jane's stupid and unfunny?" I scoffed, "I can't believe this."

He rolled his eyes, "Come on, Daria. We never would've lasted. Sure, she's fun but there wasn't much there."

"You lied to me!"

"Wake up, Daria!" He threw his hands in the air, "Okay, I may have stretched the truth but who cares? I came here to see you. I like you, you like me. Who cares about Jane?"

He kissed me again and I pressed back, running my fingers through his hair. I made sure he was completely relaxed before I broke the kiss. I kept a firm grip on his hair and I slammed his face into the steering wheel.

"SHIT!"

I pushed open the door, "Go fuck yourself!"

I slammed the door shut and smirked once I saw his nose was bleeding.

"Are you insane?!"

I narrowed my eyes, "Leave. NOW."

He glared at me but he didn't say anything else. He quickly pulled away from the curb and sped off down the street. I watched the car disappear before I angrily kicked at a rock.

"ARGH!"

"Quiet, kid. You might scare the neighbors."

I whipped around, "Jane?!"

She was leaning against the back of my mom's car, "Were you expecting the president?"

"...How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough" she smiled, "I personally would've gone for the folding chair but to each his own."

I made my way over to her, "I'm sorry. I never should've started talking to him."

"...No, I'm the one that's sorry" she sighed, "I kinda overreacted. My relationship was falling apart and I didn't know what to do. It was easier to blame it on someone else."

"...You didn't mean all those things?"

She linked her arm with mine, "I know you'd never stab me in the back."

"So, your other body parts aren't off limits?"

She narrowed her blue eyes playfully, "Come at me with a knife and we'll see who has the best MMA moves."

"...He was a jerk."

She nodded, "Yeah, definitely."

"For the record, I think you're pretty cool." I smirked.

She gasped, "Hello? Who are you and what have you done with Daria?"

"You wanna come in? I'm pretty sure we'll be just in time to see the final results of the Blushathon. I warn you, what you're about to see might be graphic."

She grinned, "Lead the way."


	12. Missed Opportunities

**I haven't written enough nice Tom/Daria...and I won't start now. Considering I actually like them it's a little ironic. This piece is loosely based off of (500) Days of Summer. **

The loft apartment was nicely furnished, almost like a photo from a home decorating magazine. There was a white sectional sofa in the middle of the room surrounding a glass coffee table and two potted plants. A large abstract painting hung on the far left wall; a splash of color in the otherwise monochromatic living space. The picture windows on the far right were connected to a sliding glass door that led out to the balcony. Most of the guests were mingling inside but there were a few people standing out there. _She_ was out there.

There was an aura about her, a radiant glow that seemed to surround her. She was smiling, her dark brown eyes shining happily. Her auburn hair was curled into waves that fell over her pale shoulders. She was wearing a sleeveless black dress that conformed perfectly to fit her slender frame. I'd never seen her dress up before. I tried not to let my eyes linger but it hurt to turn away. After all these years, a lump still formed in my throat when I saw her. The girl standing outside holding a wine glass wasn't the same girl I'd met in high school. She was weightless, carefree...content. She no longer wore the emotionless mask she so often hid behind. She wasn't afraid to show her emotions. She wasn't afraid of getting close to people. Too bad I wasn't around to watch the transformation.

I took a sip of my red wine and adjusted my black satin tie. I felt utterly ridiculous. I'd actually attended with the hope that we could reconnect. I gripped the steering wheel in my BMW so tight that my knuckles turned white as I drove. This was my chance. All I needed was a moment alone with her and everything would fall into place. A nagging voice in the back of my head told me that I was being impulsive. It had been a few months since I'd seen her. Before that, four years. Why did I think tonight could make up for that? Because she had extended the invitation.

Luck was the reason I ended up at that coffee shop in Boston. Sheer dumb luck. I had just left an interview which I was sure that I bombed. I had been too eager and my flattery probably came off as cheap. The coffee shop happened to be right across the street from the office building so I figured I'd get a drink. I never thought I'd run into her there. She was standing right in front of me in line. I didn't recognize her from behind but as soon as she turned around, my heart stopped. She'd matured, a lot. Her face was more angular, her glasses were gone, she was even wearing make-up. It was a lot to take in all at once. We only talked for ten minutes, she had to get back to work. But in those few short minutes she said we should catch up. She invited me to a party she was having and she even gave me her phone number. That little piece of paper gave me a new sense of confidence. Maybe I could finally win back what I'd lost so long ago.

"Young Thomas, it's been awhile."

I blinked, coming out of my reverie. Jane Lane was standing next to me, holding her own glass of wine. Her hair was longer and streaked with blonde. She was dressed in a pale blue cocktail dress that matched the color of her eyes perfectly. I knew she would be around. I couldn't imagine Daria without her or vice versa.

"Jane, you look great."

"You don't look so bad yourself. How have you been?"

"Alright" I shrugged, "I've been working at Grace, Sloane, and Page. It would be okay if my dad wasn't always breathing down my neck. You?"

"Interning at this art gallery downtown. There's a show in two weeks and I'll be selling some paintings."

I pointed towards the wall, "I take it you made that?"

She smiled, "Excellent eye, Sloane. I did. That was my house warming gift to Daria." She turned towards the other side of the room, "Speak of the devil."

Sure enough, Daria was making her way over to us. I could feel my shoulders tense. She stopped in front of us and glanced at Jane.

"That's Satan to you. How's it going?"

"Oh, just talking about our mediocre existence. Our lives don't hold a candle to yours, I'm afraid."

Daria rolled her eyes, "Please, I edit terrible articles for an even worse newspaper. I haven't eaten submitted any of my own material. "

I swallowed, "Uh, what paper?"

"Boston Times. Trust me, you don't want to read it."

Jane draped an arm over her shoulder, "I'm not talking about the paper, amiga. I mean, seriously, look at this ring!"

And that's when my stomach dropped to the floor. Daria flushed a bright shade of pink while Jane examined her left hand. On her ring finger there was an impressive diamond ring. An engagement ring. She was engaged. I felt sick.

"Oh, stop it. Sometimes I think you're more excited than I am."

"Where is Eric anyway?"

Daria briefly glanced around, "I don't know. Probably still serving drinks."  
"Well, I am going to get him."

"Don't sneak up on him this time. I don't need to lose another wine glass."

Jane grinned, "I'll try."

Jane made her way to the kitchen leaving us alone. My mouth felt like it was full of cotton. How could this be happening? She was getting married? All my grandiose ideas were now useless. We wouldn't spend the whole night reminiscing. We wouldn't sit outside and share stories about college. There would be no whispered confessions, no admission of feelings. No long anticipated kiss. I would get nothing because she was gone. Forever.

"...Are you okay?" She was watching me closely, her forehead creased with worry.

I was sure I looked as terrible as I felt, "...No, uh, I'm fine. It's just...wow...you're, you know..."

She watched me for a moment longer before setting her glass down on the coffee table, "Here, sit down."

I forced myself to relax as I sat down on the sofa. She took a seat next to me and took a deep breath before she turned to face me.

"...Tom, tell me what's wrong."

I ran a hand over the back of my neck, "Nothing. Everything's fine."

She sighed, "Just tell me."

"...It's stupid. I guess...I just..." I exhaled sharply, "I thought something different would happen tonight, that's all."

"...Like what?"

I didn't want to tell her the truth because it was embarrassing. I'd clung onto this hope for so long while she'd just moved on with her life. I looked into her eyes and I found all the things that I would never have. It was useless not to tell her. What did I have to lose?

"I wanted to start over. I wanted _us_ to start over. Daria, I've never stopped thinking about you. Nobody has even come close to measuring up to you and...I thought I could make it work."

It felt like time stopped completely. She was still staring at me but her expression was indecipherable. I wasn't sure if I should've said anything at all. She moved closer to me and placed a tentative hand on my knee. My breath caught in my throat.

"So, why didn't you do anything?"

I paused, "...I don't know."

She shook her head, "That's the thing with you, Tom. You never break out of your comfort zone. You never have the courage to go after what you want."

I opened my mouth to protest but she wasn't finished.

"...I did wait for you. For awhile, I thought I made a mistake. I wasted so much time thinking about you and what I did wrong. I was sure I'd end up alone. But, then I met Eric and it all made sense. Everything was different. I knew that I didn't make the wrong decision. I knew that he was the right one."

It hurt to be told I was wrong when I was so sure we were right. She was correct about me and that was just another blow to the chest. I was a coward. I was too afraid of rejection to reach out to her. She was everything that I wasn't and it intimidated me. I thought she was right about the distance but really, she knew all along. She knew that I would never be able to commit.

"I care about you. I always will. You were an important part of my life. But we were never supposed to last. I still debate about whether we were even supposed to happen. You'll meet someone, someone perfect. It's just not me."

There was so much I wanted to say but the words were stuck in my throat. I wanted to tell her she had no idea what she was talking about. That _she_ was the one that was confused. But I couldn't. She gently brushed my cheek before leaning in towards me. I was shocked when I felt her lips brush against my own. She kissed me softly and I breathed in the scent of her lavender perfume. It only lasted a few seconds but I could barely breathe when she pulled away.

"I'm sorry...I understand if you don't want to stay."

I wanted to leave, to drive back home. But I thought about what she said. I wouldn't run away. No matter how much it stung.

"No, I think I'll stay."

She stood up and extended her hand, "Come on. I'll introduce you to Eric."

I took a deep breath and grabbed her hand, trying not to focus on the softness of her skin. I had to do this. For her.


	13. Birthday Blues

**This is another semi song fic. I don't know how I feel about it but here it is anyway. Disclaimer: mild drug use. **

_it is my birthday_

_it is a new year_

_I should be happy that I am still here_

_light up a new joint_

_put on an old shirt_

_try to remember_

_forget how my brain works_

**-Say Anything, "Try To Remember, Forget" **

He lightly scratched his bare chest as he watched the time change from 11:59 PM to 12:00 AM. He was officially twenty-eight years old. He stretched his long legs across the worn sofa, sinking further into the cushions. There wasn't much for him to do. He had been awake since 3:00 PM lazily strumming his acoustic guitar and nursing a killer hangover. The migraine he had upon waking had finally been reduced to a dull throbbing near his temples. He stretched his arm out and felt around his cluttered coffee table until his calloused fingers curled around a small wooden box. He rested it on his lap and flipped open the latch on the front. There were plenty of rolling papers but only enough weed left in the bottom of the little plastic bag for one joint. He sighed and went to work, making a metal note to call up Max. He placed it between his lips and fished his lighter out of the pocket of his jeans. He lit it, inhaling deeply before letting the smoke out in a thin stream. This was his life.

He wanted to believe it used to be better. Birthday parties with thick slices of chocolate cake and multi-colored streamers. Tearing open presents wrapped in shiny paper adorned with giant ribbons. It was all foreign to him. He'd never had a birthday party in his life. Maybe there were some when he was a child but none that he could recall. The closest he got was Jane presenting him a Hostess cupcake with a single candle stuck in the center. Even that was better than now. At least he wasn't alone then.

He groggily rolled off the couch and trudged into his bedroom, his bare feet dragging across the carpet. He grabbed a gray t-shirt from the foot of his bed and shrugged it on. He let his eyes lazily scan the area for anything useful. The floor was covered in clothes, both clean and dirty. The ancient computer desk pushed against the far right wall was littered with empty beer cans and an overflowing ash tray. The bed was unmade, his black sheets lying halfway on the floor. There was an unfamiliar article of clothing resting near his pillow. He grabbed it and brought it towards his face. The scent of her perfume still lingered. His breath caught in his throat as he unfolded the t-shirt and felt the soft fabric with his fingers. How long had this been there? He was surprised he didn't find it earlier.

_"I can't do it anymore, Trent! You don't even care do you?"_

He did care. He always cared. He just wasn't the best at showing it. There were things he knew he was supposed to do but he never did. They kept having the same arguments, over and over again. The words were all the same. It was a song and dance they're practiced well. Why didn't he listen? God, he never thought she'd leave for good.

She shoved her clothes into her suitcase at lightning speed despite his protests. He was powerless to stop her. The pain was so intense it almost overwhelmed him. He'd asked where she was going but she refused to answer him. During all the years he'd known her, he'd never seen her so furious. Her dark brown eyes were full of such an intense rage that he feared one look would turn him to stone. He begged her to stay, pleaded. It was useless. Once her mind was made up, there was no changing it. She walked out the front door and she never came back.

He tossed the shirt back onto his bed and turned away. There was no use dwelling on it. He dragged himself back into the hall and made his way into the kitchen. There was a pizza box sitting on the counter with one slice of mushroom pizza left. He felt another twinge of sadness but he swallowed it down. He grabbed it and took a large bite, chewing slowly. He reached into his back pocket and pulled on his small silver flip phone. He couldn't believe he was even bothering but he quickly scrolled through the contacts and hit the call button. He pressed the phone to his ear and listened to it ring. He continued to eat as it kept ringing, convinced that he was wasting his time.

"...Trent..."

He nearly choked on a piece of crust. He coughed, "Ah...Um..."

"Trent?"

He cleared his throat, "Hey, Monique."

"Are you okay? Did something happen?" he could hear the nervousness in her voice.

"I'm fine. I just..."

"I'm not coming back."

He winced, "Kinda harsh...I just wanted to talk to you."

She sighed, "I can't talk to you. We both know what will happen and I'm not putting myself through it again. We have to stop."

"...I love you."

"Stop."

He closed his eyes, "Mon, we've known each other since tenth grade. Why do you think we keep getting back together? After all this time?"

"It never works, Trent! We can't be together. We're like oil and water, it just won't work." Her voice was breaking.

"I know you love me too. Please, I can't stay here without you."

"Don't do this."

He took a deep breath, "Just come back. Things will be better. I'll try. Listen, it's..."

"Goodbye, Trent."

He heard a click and then she was gone again. He kept the phone pressed against his ear as his stomach twisted into knots.

"...It's my birthday."


	14. Halloween High

**A little Halloween piece since I've always wanted a Halloween episode. None of the characters belong to me.**

The large, fluffy white angel wings only added insult to injury. Daria Morgendorffer stared at the white layered chiffon dress with annoyance. The thin fabric stopped a few inches above her knees and the midsection was cutting off her circulation. Worst of all was the white feathered headband that resembled a halo. She wanted nothing more than to shed the outfit, put on pajamas, and watch horror movies for the rest of the night. Unfortunately, she was bound to her word. She never backed down from a bet, even if she lost.

"Don't you look...heavenly?"

Daria shot her best friend a death glare before taking in her costume. Jane had gotten the better end of the deal for once. She was dressed head to toe in various shades of red. A dark red tank top covered by her normal red blazer, a pair of bright red shorts, sheer red tights along with a pair of burgundy combat boots. Glittery devil horns peeked out from among her jet black hair and she was holding a plastic pitchfork in her right hand. She narrowed her pale blue eyes and attempted to look menacing. Daria only rolled her eyes.

"Let's get this humiliation over with."

* * *

The Halloween dance was held in the gymnasium due to budget cuts and Mrs. Li's reluctance to open more than one area of the school after hours. The walls were decorated with paper bats and pumpkins while orange, black, and green streamers were draped from the ceiling. Refreshment tables were set up on either side of the room which were currently being manned by the student government. There was even a low-budget DJ playing a mix of Monster Mash and some outdated techno songs. Daria and Jane scoped out the scene with mild amusement. It was terrible.

"Maybe if we leave quickly nobody will know we were here."

Jane grabbed her friend's arm and steered her away from the double doors, "I don't think so, amiga. A deal is a deal."

Daria sighed but reluctantly let Jane drag her towards one of the punch bowls. Daria stared at the red liquid where plastic eyeballs were floating.

"I hope our fellow classmates decided to donate more of their organs."

Jane filled two plastic cups with punch and handed one to Daria, "I can almost taste their failure."

"What are _you_ doing here?!"

Both girls turned to see Quinn standing behind them. Her crimson hair was tied up in a neat bun and she was wearing a pale green dress reminiscent of Tinkerbell. A pair of lavender fairy wings and faux ballerina slippers completed the ensemble. Daria could even detect a hint of glitter around her eyes. Daria took a sip of her drink which tasted like flat cherry soda.

"Hell was out of open vacancies."

Jane brandished her pitch fork, "All the cynical high school girl suites were booked."

"Whatever! Just go...What are you wearing?!"

Daria's cheeks immediately turned a bright shade of pink, "...I'm the guest on a wacky sitcom. This is all an elaborate skit."

Quinn grabbed her own cup, "Look, whatever you're doing just don't embarrass me. Maybe nobody will recognize you in that."

She turned and stormed off towards Sandi, Stacy, and Tiffany who were convening near the bleachers. Daria took several deep breaths before she regained her composure.

"Well, I think I've filled my irritation quota for the evening."

Jane shook her head, "We've only just begun. Just wait until the costume contest!"

Daria groaned, "Oh great."

* * *

Quinn cringed as she observed the gross eyes floating in her drink. She hastily placed it on the bleachers and turned back towards her friends. Each member was wearing identical costumes in different colors. Stacy's dress was yellow, Sandi's was blue, and Tiffany's was pink. Their original mermaid idea had to be scrapped after Stacy tripped in her tail and bruised her nose. Quinn was happy; fairies really were better than mermaids anyway. Who wanted to be half fish?

"One of us _has_ to win best costume. I mean, it's only fair that the most _fashionable_ people are nominated."

Tiffany nodded in agreement, "Yeeeah, we're the moooost fashionaaablee."

Stacy looked around nervously, "But Sandi, Brittany has on those really cute go-go boots and there's that girl over there."

Stacy pointed towards a corner of the gym and Sandi narrowed her eyes, "_Quinn_, isn't that your cousin or something?"

It was in fact Daria. Quinn couldn't believe that she managed to actually look...cute! _She_ was always the one in the cute costumes. Daria always dressed as a vampire or ghost or something else equally lame. Last year, she hadn't even dressed up at all. And _why_ was she at a school event anyway? Quinn was convinced it was all an elaborate plan to humiliate her in front of her friends. The worst part was, it already seemed to be working.

"Uh...she won't be a problem, Sandi! She doesn't even like winning."

At that moment Joey, Jeffy, and Jamie decided to make their appearance. They were all dressed as pirates, the only difference being their choice of accessories. Joey sported a pirate hat with a skull and crossbones. Jeffy wore an eye patch over his left eye. Jamie was holding a plastic sword. They all flashed Quinn large grins before starting their stream of questions.

"Hey, Quinn, can I get you a drink?"

Joey elbowed Jamie, "How about a brownie?"

Jeffy shoved past the two of them, "How about...uh...a...napkin?"

She didn't have time for them right now. She was too busy trying to figure out just what Daria had up her sleeve.

* * *

Daria tried to loosen the straps on her wings since the elastic was cutting into her arm. She was considering abandoning them altogether but she'd spent fifteen dollars on the stupid things. She didn't even know costumes could get so expensive.

"Count Doofus at ten o'clock."

Kevin Thompson was lumbering over to them with Brittany clinging onto his forearm. Kevin was wearing a black satin cape over his typical football uniform. His black hair was slicked back with hair gel and a pair of fake fangs stuck out over his bottom lip. Brittany was wearing a 60's tie-dyed dress complete with silver go-go boots, matching headband, and round blue sunglasses.

"Check me out, I'm Dracula!"

"Bram Stoker is turning in his grave." Daria deadpanned.

Kevin scratched his head, "Who?"

"Kevy was _supposed_ to be one of the Beatles."

Jane raised an eyebrow, "Which one?"

Brittany bit her lip, "Um...whichever one was the cutest!"

"Aw, babe, but vampires are cool!"

The group was joined by Mack Mackenzie and Jodie Landon. Mack was dressed as a Ghost Buster but Jodie was wearing normal clothes.

"Where's your school spirit, Ms. Student Body President?"

Jodie smiled sadly, "I spent so much time planning the event that I didn't have time to get a costume."

Jane shook her head, "That's too bad. You would've made an impressive Stay-Puft Marshmallow."

"I honestly didn't expect you two to show up."

Kevin nodded, "Yeah, aren't you weird chicks usually doing voodoo on Halloween or something?"

Daria resisted the urge to smack him, "That reminds me, can I have a lock of your hair?"

"Anyway, Daria lost a bet. She didn't believe I could fit 60 assorted gummy bears in my mouth."

Jodie winced, "You did that?"

"Unfortunately, yes" Daria rolled her eyes, "Right before she spit them out all over the kitchen counter."

Jane smiled, "Hey, you never specified the rules so I still win."

"I could top that! Babe, are there any gummy bears around here?"

Brittany sighed before tugging on Kevin's arm, "Come on, Kevy. There's a corner with our name on it."

He looked around, "Where?"

She held her tongue as she pulled him away.

"Attention, students!"

Mr. O'Neill was standing up on the DJ booth holding a piece of paper. Daria and Jane shared a look.

"The results of the costume contest are in."

"Wait, what results?"

Jodie pointed towards a table, "Student government picked the winners. We figured it was easier to observe everyone than parade them around the gym."

"So, you know who won?"

Jodie turned back to the stage, "You'll see soon enough."

Mr. O'Neill cleared his throat, "The scariest costume goes to Charles Ruttheimer."

Upchuck bounded up the stairs. He was a pretty impressive Frankenstein though Daria assumed he won strictly on personality alone. Mr. O'Neill handed him a goodie bag and a cheap looking ribbon.

"Okay, let's see, the cutest costume goes to-"

Daria waited for Quinn or one of the other fashion fiends to strut across the booth and take their winnings. She was confused when she saw Jane, Mack and Jodie all staring at her.

"What?"

Jane grabbed her shoulders and gave her a small push towards the DJ, "Go collect your prize, amiga!"

Daria blinked. She won? Mr. O'Neill spotted her and gestured for her to walk up the stairs. She walked as quickly as her legs would allow, making sure she kept her head down. She took her bag of candy and her golden ribbon. 'CUTEST COSTUME' was written on it in bold, block letters.

_Happy Halloween, _she thought miserably.

* * *

Quinn was glaring at her older sister and her prizes.

"I can't believe you stole this from me! Everyone knows I'M the cutest! UGH!"

Daria shoved another piece of chocolate into her mouth, "There's always next year."

Jane rummaged through the paper bag and extracted her own piece, "Yeah, if it's any consolation I think you had the second cutest costume. Well, you and the rest of the Fashion Club."

"They aren't the same!" Quinn huffed.

"Who says originality is dead?" Daria smirked.

Quinn snatched her bag of candy, "Just give me something!"

Jane leaned in towards Daria, "10 bucks says she'll eat it even though it's not sugar free."

"Even I'm not that stupid." Daria said as she watched Quinn scrutinize a taffy wrapper.

"This was the worst Halloween ever!"

Daria and Jane looked at each other and smiled.


	15. Lawndale Confessional

**Another topic I read on PPMB. Glimpses inside the minds of Lawndale High students in the form of a reality television confession booth! **

**LAWNDALE CONFESSIONAL: **

Tiffany Blum-Deckler ran her fingers through her jet black hair before examining her make-up in her silver compact mirror. Satisfied with her appearance, she closed the mirror and slid it into her purse. She blinked a few times, smoothing her hands over the bottom of her mint green dress. Finally, she cleared her throat and turned to face the camera.

"Uh...this is weird." She laughed nervously, "It's like I actually get time to talk and I don't even know what to say. Oh, alright, I bought a new foundation yesterday! I think it's much better than the brand Sandi swears by. Honestly, she doesn't know the first thing about make-up application. Did you see the lipstick stains she had on her teeth at lunch?"

She paused, "...You can edit a clip of that in right?"

* * *

Brittany Taylor leaned forward in the overstuffed, plush armchair so her blue eyes were the only things visible on camera.

"I always wanted to be on TV!" She squeaked before sitting back.

She bit her lip and twirled a strand of blonde hair around her pinky finger, "Today, I got a call from Robbie Davis and I was _super_ excited! I mean, I promised Kevy that I would stop seeing him but I had my fingers crossed. Plus, Robbie's jeep is soooo much nicer! I have to have standards. OOH, I have to make sure he buys me a new set of earrings."

She held her hair back to show the ones she was wearing, "I mean, these are probably cubic zirconium! I deserve REAL diamonds! Kevy, that cheap jerk!"

* * *

Jodie Landon crossed her legs at the ankle and sat up straight, focusing on the camera in front of her.

"As student body president, I'm obligated to say that this is extremely unethical and a violation of several laws."

She exhaled sharply and relaxed, tucking a braid behind her ear, "As myself, I have A LOT to say. If I could flip off the crowd instead of giving a graduation speech, I'd gladly take that option. This school is nothing but a gigantic pain in my ass. Don't even get me started on my 'fellow peers'. I mean, come on! I didn't think it was statistically possible to have so many low IQ's in a mile radius WITHOUT there being an explanation. Their idea of 'cultural diversity' is nominating me and Mack as homecoming queen and king...EVERY YEAR. It only makes it harder for me to end the relationship..."

She pursed her lips, "...He's not going to see this is he?!"

* * *

Jane Lane dropped down into the chair with a bag of salted pretzels. She wiped the crumbs from the front of her red blazer before draping her legs over the arm of the chair.

"So I just start right?" She ate a handful of pretzels before speaking again, "I guess we all know who I'm going to talk about. Daria, Daria, my best friend. My amiga. At least I think so. I never know with her, ya know? One minute I'm sure that things are okay and the next she's tongue wrestling with my boyfriend."

She ate another pretzel, "But, hey, that's high school right? You stab your friends in the back, make-out with their boyfriends, and then laugh over a slice of pizza the next week. It's all cool. It's fine that she was probably plotting behind your back. Because that's the fun of it all! A friendship rollercoaster of betrayal and lies!"

She rolled her pale blue eyes, "...I'm fine. I'm over it...bitch..."

* * *

Quinn Morgendorffer ran a hair brush through her straight, red hair before smiling into the camera.

"It's a shame this is only temporary. A girl could get used to being in front of cameras. Anyway, at lunch, Joey tried to touch my shoulder! As if I would let some boy put his greasy French fry hands on my new cashmere sweater! They really are all so pathetic. It's like, I give off all the right body language. It clearly screams 'leave me alone!' but they just don't get it. Like, it's cool that they buy me clothes and bring me soda but I'm so not interested."

She examined her pale yellow nail polish, "...I'm not into boys. I mean, I'm not into girls either if that's what you're thinking! I'm not into _anyone_. There are so many better things to do. Deep condition my hair, buy a new pair of suede shoes, try that new chocolate granola! I mean, who has time for all that other boring stuff? Ugh, it's so hard being so pretty and popular."

* * *

Charles 'Upchuck" Ruttheimer III sprayed his mouth with breath freshener despite being the only person in the room besides the cameraman. He folded the collar on his beige polo and ran a hand through his curly, red hair.

"It's a lonely life at Lawndale High for this eligible bachelor. Alone, forlorn, and without a lovely lady to hold in my arms. Such a pitiful existence!"

He coughed, "...There will be attractive and willing females watching this program?"

"Ah, Upchuck. The unfortunate nickname that will no doubt haunt me for the rest of my life! Upchuck. It wasn't even my fault! So, I ate too many fried Oreos and then decided to ride the Tilt-A-Whirl. I was eleven for Christ's sake. The entire sixth grade class watched me lose my stomach all over the poor, defenseless girl next to me. I won't name her for privacy reasons but she was less than thrilled. I was dubbed Upchuck in a matter of minutes. A sordid tale indeed. If only someone could soothe my wounded soul!"

* * *

Sandi Griffin tossed some brown hair behind her shoulder before fixing the camera with a pointed glare.

"It's so much _work _being the _smartest_ person in your group of friends. I mean, I'm obviously the most competent member of the Fashion Club. The worst part is my talent goes completely unrecognized. I'm the one that comes up with all the great ideas but I get absolutely zero credit. Instead, Quinn makes herself the center of attention, all the time! I should've never given her the vice president position."

She folded her arms across her chest, "It's quite pathetic really. She just can't survive unless guys are constantly drooling over her. I feel bad for her. To have such low self-confidence, it must be a challenge. I wouldn't know. I have no flaws. That's why I'M the president. "

She looked down at her shirt and noticed a small stain near her collar, "Oh no! Tell me you can fix that later?! I'll be ruined!"

* * *

Kevin Thompson scratched his head in confusion as he took in the unfamiliar set-up and video equipment. He walked around the room a few times before finally settling into the chair. As usual, he donned his football uniform and a goofy grin.

"Wow, I'm on TV!" He waved enthusiastically, "Hi, Mom!"

Someone whispered something and he frowned, "It's not live? What am I supposed to do?"

He sat in deep concentration for a moment before smiling again, "Uh...it's cool being the QB! There's no rules. All the babes love me and it's fine as long as I keep my main babe happy. She's the best! Except when she's mad at me. It is NOT a good idea to date a chick that's a black belt. Um...I'm not going to get in trouble for missing class am I? Ms. Barch does NOT like people to miss her class."

* * *

Andrea sat in the chair with her arms crossed and her eyes focused on the floor.

"Why do I even have to do this? Ugh, it beats actual school, I guess. I'm the 'freaky, goth chick'. What else is new? None of them even know anything about me. It's 'there goes that girl with the black lipstick'. 'There goes that girl in her weird, witch skirts'. How can you go to school with people since grade school and they don't even try to get to know you?"

She brushed some hair away from her face with a gloved hand, "I'm a person too...Ew, look at me ranting like a boring, self-absorbed Barbie doll. Can I get out of here?"

* * *

Mack Mackenzie took his seat and lounged comfortably. He rested his hands on his knees and moved forward.

"Before I say anything, just how private are these sessions?" He sighed, "It's bad enough being the token black guy but tie in the fact that my girlfriend is only staying with me to keep everyone else happy and it gets worse. We barely even see each other outside of school. She's always busy. She's so worried about being a model daughter that she never even thinks about my life. I have my own friends and my own family, my own interests and hobbies. Does she care? Not one little bit. It's all about Jodie."

He drummed his fingers against his leg, "I know I should feel bad about cheating on her but I just don't. It's selfish of me but don't I deserve to be a little selfish too? I should probably just break-up with her. But then I'm stuck as the bad guy. When will I ever get cut some slack? I only hope that she'll do it herself when we graduate. No use prolonging this through the summer."

He ran a hand over the back of his neck, "She won't see this will she?!"

* * *

Stacy Rowe bit her nails and fidgeted awkwardly in the chair, her eyes darting from one side of the room to the other.

"...S...Sandi thinks I'm stupid but I'm not! I'm just as smart as her and Tiffany and Quinn. Maybe a little smarter than Tiffany..." She shook her head, "It's not fair that she's always yelling at me! I don't do anything wrong! I try so hard to make her happy and it never works! Sometimes I just want to smack her!"

She yelped, "I didn't mean that! Oh my god, I swear I didn't!"

She covered her face with her hands and started to cry, the sobs shaking her shoulders, "Oh god, she's going to kill me!"

* * *

Daria Morgendorffer was the last student to enter the confessional room. She was also the only one to bring another person. Tom Sloane trailed in behind her with his hands in the pockets of his khaki pants. The armchair was now replaced with an overstuffed, white sofa. Daria removed her green jacket, draping it over the back of the couch before sitting down. Tom took a seat next to her, his olive eyes scrutinizing the camera. She cleaned her glasses with the edge of her t-shirt before starting.

"This is the last place I want to be so let's just get this over with."

Tom turned to face her, "Are we getting paid for this?"

"Just look nice for the camera, Sloane. What is it you all want to hear? I'm sure Jane's filled in some of the blanks. I'll skip the lengthy narrative and get right to the point. Yes, I kissed her boyfriend. Twice. Isn't that the ultimate act of disloyalty? Who knew I'd end up being a cliché? Despite what she might have said, I'm not a vindictive little bitch. Sue me for having emotions and feelings. It's like I'm not supposed to be happy. I'm still The Misery Chick to everyone else. Cynical, dispassionate, unlovable. It's not true and I'm sick of it. Jane likes to pretend that she doesn't look at me that way but it's painfully obvious. I guess I surprised her."

He twirled a strand of her auburn hair around his finger, "Done?"

"Not quite." She leaned over and pressed her lips against his, gripping the front of his sweater, "I get extra for that right?"

"HEY!"

**I had way too much fun doing this. **


	16. Trash Freakout

**An Iron Chef Challenge: Jake's Trash Freak-out. The main idea is that Jake is taking out the trash and the bag rips, revealing a pregnancy test (but he can't tell the results). This is his reaction and his search for the truth. Enjoy! **

"Damn lousy cheap garbage bags!"

Jake Morgendorffer was hunched over in his driveway trying to collect the scattered trash that had spilled onto the concrete. The remnants of the disposable garbage bag were lying a few inches away, a large hole extending from the top of the bag to the bottom. Jake grabbed a banana peel and a crumbled napkin, his mouth twisted into a scowl. Of course he couldn't make one simple trip without disaster striking. At least it wasn't those damn squirrels this time. He lost count of how many times he saw his garbage can knocked over into the street while those furry rats picked over their dinner. Jake thought about setting up another trap when his hand curled around something unfamiliar. He looked down, his brain trying to process just what he was seeing. It couldn't be what he thought it was. The small, white plastic object had a tiny screen on the front which was cracked, obscuring whatever it once displayed. A pregnancy test. Jake rushed back inside the house, the scattered garbage all but forgotten.

He collapsed into his armchair with a full martini glass and the rest of the shaker as he tried to process this new information. Somebody had taken the pregnancy test that week. Of course, with himself ruled out, that left three. None of the prospects made him happy. There was Helen, his wife, the one that filled him with the least dread. However, it still wasn't an ideal situation. Jake was well into his forties, his fiftieth birthday was right around the corner! He didn't have the energy to take care of a baby! Not to mention the finances! Daria was off to college in a few short months. He was already driving himself insane thinking about the costs of tuition, room and board, and a meal plan. He scratched his head and took a sip of his drink. It couldn't be Helen...could it? Didn't she have her tubes tied? His memory was fuzzy. She did have her tubes tied! He was sure of it now. Yes, of course! Right after Quinn was born, they decided they wouldn't have any more children. Helen went through with the procedure after their youngest daughter's birth. Right! Jake suddenly felt very nauseous.

That left two suspects: his daughters. He swallowed hard as he thought about what that meant. There was no way in hell he was ready to be a grandfather! Neither of his girls were ready to be mothers! As much as it pained him, he had to consider all possibilities. He decided to start with the oldest: Daria. He highly doubted that _she_ was the one to take the test. Daria had always been analytical and forward thinking ever since she was a kid. He couldn't imagine her ever doing something so reckless. Especially with college right around the corner! He shifted his attention from her to her boyfriend: Tom Sloane. He'd _seemed _nice enough from the brief conversations they'd had. He was the one that liked go-carts! Wait...or was he the one that had the squirrels that raided his cellar? Jake struggled to recall any information about him. He perked up when he remembered that HE was the one that Helen was always talking about. Yeah, the one she didn't want in Daria's room. Jake jumped up from his chair, spilling alcohol on the front of his red polo. He ignored it and started to pace the length of the living room. That slimy weasel! He probably smoothed talked Daria into it! That was exactly what happened! His footsteps got faster as he mulled over the idea. Of course! There had been that night Jake caught him sneaking out the front door in the early hours of the morning. Who knew what he had been doing?! And right underneath his nose!

"Thinks he can fool old, Jakey? It'll take more than that to fool me! When I see him I'll..."

He stopped. Sure, Daria did have a steady boyfriend but what about Quinn?

Quinn was always out with her friends, none of whom Jake could remember. What were there names? Stephanie? Tracy? No, maybe it was Stacy. Stacy was definitely one of them. But there were others too. Boys. He couldn't remember a week that went by where she didn't have a date. Again, he couldn't remember anything about her escorts other than the fact that there were a lot of them. He cursed himself for not being more attentive. He thought about the night after his wife put a curfew into affect. Quinn had lied about a study group and didn't return home until after 11 PM. He also remembered the night they caught both girls sneaking in from god knows where. How much did he really know about his daughters? _He_ had been naive enough to believe all of the fabricated stories! He imagined his father laughing at him. He'd show him! He could be crafty! He could figure it all out on his own! Without Helen's help! He would figure it all out!

* * *

Jake crept into Daria's bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind him. She was at her friend Jane's house so he had a few hours to dig around. Helen was on the phone, luckily. He knew she would want to know why he was snooping around and then he'd have to let her know about the test. He wanted to figure this out without her help. It wasn't technically lying, just omitting part of the truth. He stood in the middle of the room, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar layout. The computer desk was cluttered with books and papers, all of which looked to be school related. The bookshelf was immaculate. All the novels were arranged in alphabetical order by authors last name and the shelves were free of dust. Her TV rested on its wheeled stand near the front of her bed which was unmade. It was all fairly ordinary.

Jake was a little disappointed. He had hoped that he would find something within minutes of entering the room so he could return to building his model train set. Unfortunately, luck was not on his side. He got down onto the floor and started to crawl on his hands and knees. If there was a secret, it would be hidden. Daria was smart enough not to leave incriminating evidence out in the open. He made his way over to her bed and peered underneath. That's where most teenage girls hid things...he assumed. He wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for. Maybe a diary or journal. Daria liked to write, he was sure she would keep a log of important events in her life. This was bound to be hidden somewhere within the pages. He found a long forgotten sneaker, two crumpled pieces of paper that only contained unsolved algebra problems, and a chewing gum wrapper. Discouraged, he stood up and brushed the dust from his khaki pants. Nothing there, where else was there to look? He scanned the room again, his eyes taking in every minor detail before they landed on her computer. He smiled. Of course! Daria was always on her computer, there had to be writing there. He sat down in her chair, adjusting the seat so he was eye level with the monitor. He turned it on and immediately grabbed the mouse, preparing to open every folder he found. To his surprise, a command window opened up.

A password?! Jake wracked his brain for anything he could use. He tried the easiest first: password. Of course, his access was denied. He tried again: skeleton. Still nothing. He looked up and saw her large poster of Kafka so he tried that. Yet again, nothing. Frustrated, he left the desk and returned to her bed. There was one thing left. He lifted up her mattress and felt along the box spring. Near the head of her bed, his fingers closed around a leather bound book. He nearly jumped for joy when he extracted it. It was small and thin with no discernible markings on the cover but he expected that from his eldest child. She always did like plain and simple. He quickly thumbed through the pages, his excitement increasing even more. It was a journal! One that was only started a year ago. He didn't sit down to read just yet. He readjusted the bed and inspected the room one last time before leaving.

Next was Quinn's room, the one he felt would be the easiest to tackle. He paused in front of her open doorway, gazing down the hall to his own room. He could still hear Helen arguing on the phone with her boss, Eric. He breathed a sigh of relief before stepping into the room. Quinn's room was more cluttered than her sister's which meant even more areas he would have to look. He started with the closet. It was full of expensive outfits, all paid for with his credit card. He was about to go off on a tirade about spending but he remembered he needed to focus. He could talk about her spending habits AFTER he found what he needed. The closet was packed but not with anything useful. He made his way over to her vanity which was covered in make-up and hair care products. A stack of fashion magazines were sitting in the stool. He picked up one magazine and leafed through it. All that he found were annotations regarding color choice and accessories. He tossed it back onto the pile, deciding he wouldn't find anything there. Next was the bed. Quinn's bed was neatly made and covered with tons of stuffed animals. He suspected she had a diary too but he was worried about completely destroying the bed. He crouched down to look under the bed instead. Quinn had decidedly more stuff than her sister. A bin full of shoes, more magazines, a tote filled with scarves. He slid things around until he noticed a shoe box. It was decorated with animal stickers and the words 'KEEP OUT' were written on the top in glittery pen. He slid the box out and slipped it under his arm. He hit the jackpot! He hustled out of her room and rushed into the guest bedroom. He placed the items in there before closing the door. Tonight, he would find out the truth.

* * *

_Tom and I watched Un Chien Andalou tonight and I have to say, it kept my attention the whole way through. I'm usually not much for surrealism but he had a point about the artistic elements overwriting the oddity. They actually used a real calf's eye during the slicing scene. Pretty ingenious albeit a little gross. It's my turn to pick a movie now. Maybe La Dolce Vita. Or is that going to stir up old memories? I'm not good with this dating stuff._

Jake sighed and continued to flip through the pages, the small bedside lamp his only source of light. So far, Daria's journal turned up nothing. Most of the entries were confusing and riddled with things Jake had no idea about. It would've been easier to try and crack her computer password. He paused on a page that was completely scribbled out. He lifted the book closer to his face in an attempt to decipher anything. Why would she black out a whole page? That only peaked his curiosity further. What was she hiding? He squinted and turned the book but nothing he did could reveal the message hidden under the ink. The next entry was the last one and it was only one sentence.

_There's something therapeutic about eating chocolate ice cream at 2 AM. _

Now, he was even more confused. What did that mean? It had to be some kind of code. There had to be a hidden meaning. Ice cream? What could that really be? Maybe it was all a clever metaphor! The kids were always coming up with them to fool their parents. Ah ha! That had to be a clue! He folded the page and placed the book on the nightstand. That would be useful.

He lifted the lid of Quinn's shoebox and started rummaging through the contents. Old pictures with friends from middle school, movie ticket stubs, birthday cards. He continued to dig, wondering why it was marked 'Keep Out' when it was full of junk. Just when he was about to give up, he found a folded note in the corner. He opened it as fast as his fingers would allow and came face to face with a numbered list. On it were the names of several boys and two columns: Pros and Cons. Jake stared open-mouthed at the sheer length of the list. Quinn knew this many guys?! And why was she rating them?!

"Jake! What are you doing in here?"

He turned towards the door where his wife was standing in her bathrobe and a pair of slippers. He quickly closed the shoebox and hid it behind a pillow. He slid the note into Daria's journal while Helen made her way over to him. She stood by the edge of the bed, her hazel eyes scrutinizing him.

"Jake, what are you doing?"

"Uh...this bed is more comfortable than ours. Maybe we should switch them."

Helen shook her head, "Jake, you were the one that said this mattress was like sleeping on rocks."

"Uh...well" he stammered, "I think I was wrong..."

"So, you're sleeping in here tonight?"

He hadn't planned on it but now he had no choice, "uh...yeah! Just for tonight."

She shrugged, "Fine but don't complain tomorrow about your back."

She turned back around and left the room, leaving Jake to try and get situated. He hated that bed.

* * *

Daria was lounging on the couch with the remote resting in her hand, her auburn hair falling over the arm of the chair. The Sick, Sad World marathon has just begun and she was eager to completely immerse herself in the stupidity. She'd been taking her mom's advice and started to apply for scholarships. All the essay writing was giving her a headache. She would relax for a few hours and then get back to her computer. At least, that was the plan before Jake approached her from the kitchen.

At first, she barely glanced at him when he entered the room. His model train set was still assembled in the middle of the floor and she assumed he was looking for the missing cargo freight he'd been rambling about since last Tuesday. Instead, he took a seat in his armchair and watched her. She adjusted her glasses before sitting up to see just what he wanted.

"You're not banned from the kitchen again, are you?"  
Jake scratched the back of his head, "I don't think so?"

"...Okay?"

"How about a talk with your old man?"

"Uh...sure, Dad." She lowered the volume on the TV and regarded him quizzically. It was rare that he wanted to talk to her. Their talks usually consisted of her listening while he rambled about Corporal Ellenbogen or military school. Her mom was the one that facilitated all the important, serious discussions. She didn't know what he possibly wanted to talk about. She was positive he didn't know much about her. He tried but he was usually too pre-occupied with his own thoughts to retain information about her personal life. Whatever he wanted to know, he'd probably forget within two weeks.

"How are things with your boyfriend, Tom?"

Her eyes widened slightly. He wanted to talk about Tom? That was definitely her mom's territory. She was the one constantly hounding her about the relationship, wanting to know every little minute detail. Daria was less than thrilled about her regular 'visits' whenever Tom was over. Her dad was a different story. He rarely, if ever, bothered to come 'check-up' on her. She was grateful, she wasn't sure she could handle two paranoid parents.

"Um, fine."

He nodded, "That's great, kiddo! Been on any dates lately? Maybe gone out for ice cream?"

She was bewildered. Why was he asking about her dates? He didn't even say a word when she left and now he was interested? It was strange and Daria started to wonder if her mom put him up to it. She was probably trying to find something out but she didn't want to be too obvious. If this was her grand plan, it sucked. He was asking about ice cream of all things. It was the middle of November, why would that be one of the options? Her and Tom had a very set agenda when it came to dates. It was either movies and then pizza or pizza and then movies. There were the occasional movie marathons at his house or trips to the mall but those were few and far between. Ice cream? Could that mean something? She studied her father closely, watching for any hint of a deeper meaning. But he looked like he always did, warm smile and all. She sighed, shaking her head. _She_ was being paranoid now. There was nothing going on.

"We went to the movies last week. They were replaying the comedy from Croatia that I missed before. "

She doubted her dad even remembered that day. He was sitting right at the dinner table when her mom asked about it. She could tell by looking at his face that he didn't recall.

"...Oh...right! The one about the eye!"

She immediately tensed. He was talking about _Un Chien Andalou_ but she hadn't spoken to either of her parents about that movie. She stayed out late that night and had to sneak in through the backdoor. She was positive she never let that slip. One hundred percent positive. How did he know about it? She would have to find out.

"...No...what eye?"

He scratched his head, "You know, the calf's eye! You talked about it in your..."

He trailed off but she had heard more than enough. Her eyes widened slightly. He had found her journal?! He was _reading_ it?! She just knew the box spring was a stupid place to put it. She should've invested in a lockbox. She felt her face flush when she thought about one of her entries. He couldn't have read that or he would've been livid. Then she remembered how embarrassed she had been after writing it. That's right, she blacked it out and she was supposed to throw it away. She exhaled slowly. She wasn't happy but she was a little relieved. He had invaded her privacy but at least _that_ was out of the way.

"So, you've been reading my journal?"

She watched him loosen his tie, "Uh...well...I..." He chuckled nervously, "I...found it on my nightstand! I didn't know it was yours!"

She clenched her jaw. Of course, it had to be her mom! She wouldn't be satisfied until she unearthed something in her room. She couldn't believe she resorted to stealing her stuff. What was next? Surveillance cameras? Jane would get a kick out of this one. Daria turned back towards the TV and raised the volume again.

"Maybe I should invest in a reinforced steel door. With padlocks."

Jake frowned once he realized his moment was over. He'd botched it! He didn't learn anything and he was still at square one. He couldn't give up until he found out who took that pregnancy test. He wasn't good at snooping and he didn't particularly enjoy it but he couldn't ask outright. Whoever it was obviously wanted it hidden. They would lie unless he had evidence, which he didn't. All he could rely on was a confession.

* * *

"I know! Mauve sandals with a raspberry top, as if! I mean what is she, colorblind?!"

Quinn cradled the cordless phone with her shoulder as she polished her nails. She had a date in a few hours and she wasn't even close to being ready. She didn't have time for a full manicure even though her cuticles were horrendous. The aqua polish would have to be enough. After all, it wasn't like she was going to Chez Pierre. Joey actually thought they could just show up there! She was angry that she had to explain the need for reservations. Didn't he know anything? She was considering breaking it off altogether. There were plenty of other guys that could take her to nicer restaurants. And they had better cars. She was interrupted by a knock on her door.

"Come in."

Her dad shuffled into her room and hesitantly waited just beyond her door. She wasn't used to him entering her room. They usually only talked at the dinner table. She knew whatever it was had to be important for him to bother. She sat up straight, resting her back on an overstuffed panda bear.

"Sandi, I'll have to call you back."  
She hung up the phone and looked up at her dad, "If this is about the $100 charge to Cashman's you have to understand that it was the last dress left! I couldn't **not** buy it!"

She thought he was going to yell but instead he pulled out a piece of paper, "Explain this, young lady."

Even still, he didn't sound angry just slightly worried. She took the paper from him and briefly scanned it. It was the list she made with the Fashion Club when she decided she needed a steady boyfriend. That idea went south and she still had no desire to follow through. But she kept the list for future reference. How did her dad have it? She never showed anyone but Sandi, Stacy and Tiffany. The only way he could've found it was if he looked through her secret box. That was impossible, it was still under her bed and he would never go through her room. She assumed she'd mistakenly left it downstairs.

She shrugged, "I made it for Stacy. She had trouble getting dates and I wanted to be a good friend and help her out."

"Oh..." he frowned, "So, this isn't for you? You're not having sex?"

Quinn nearly had a heart attack. Sex?! Why would she be doing THAT?! She cringed at the thought. She didn't even let guys hold her hand, no way she'd let them see her naked! Either her dad hit his head this morning or somebody told him something. She narrowed her eyes. It had to be Daria. She was always messing with her and trying to get her into trouble. This was just ridiculous.

"MOOOOOOM!"

* * *

Helen stood in the middle of the living room with her family assembled in front of her. Quinn and Daria were seated on the sofa, both ensuring they were as far away from each other as the space allowed. Jake was fidgeting nervously in his arm chair with his second martini. Helen ran a hand through her hair and sighed. She could use a drink herself. Quinn had called her into her room where Jake was standing, looking utterly baffled. She was spazzing out about someone slandering her and making up stories. Helen could barely keep up with what she was saying. All she could really make-out was that Daria was somehow involved too. So, she had no choice but to convene a family meeting. Her day was never easy.

"Now, I want to know exactly what's going on. Quinn?"

She sat up and brushed some red hair behind her shoulder, "Dad thinks I'm having sex because Daria snuck into my room and stole my...I mean Stacy's boyfriend list and made up this stupid story! She's just angry because I spilled diet coke on her stupid essay!"

Daria rolled her eyes, "I have better things to do than lie about your personal life. I definitely wouldn't step foot into your room unless I wanted to do a documentary about the nauseating affects of the color pink."

"It was her!" Quinn huffed, "Who else could it be?"

Helen turned towards her husband who remained silent, "Jake? How did you get the list?"

"Uh...well...I was...well..."

"Jake!" She ran a hand over her face, "I don't have time for this! There is a very important conference call that I need to be on in fifteen minutes!"

"...I took it out of Quinn's room."

Quinn's mouth dropped open, "DAD!"

Daria stood up, "Case closed."

Helen shook her head and she dropped back into the chair. She returned her attention to her husband who looked like he was going to throw up.

"Why would you do that, honey? I don't understand."

He gulped, "Well...the other day...I found...I...found a..."

"What, Jake? Spit it out!" Helen was running out of patience. If this turned out to be something pointless she'd have a word with him later. He was always getting wrapped up in something. First it was the squirrels and now whatever this was. She usually didn't pay too much attention but this was affecting her now.

"I found a pregnancy test! In the trash! The trash broke and then..."

Helen felt her stomach drop to the floor. A pregnancy test?! Why hadn't he told her?! She would've gotten to the bottom of it right then and there. She would question him later. She turned back towards her daughters who were both looking at the ground. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she would hear.

"...Girls? Tell me this is some crazy joke?"

She felt her palms start to sweat when neither of them said anything. She didn't want to believe that either of them could be pregnant but she wasn't stupid. They were teenagers, she'd been a teenager once. But she went through great lengths to talk to them about safety and caution. How could this happen? Quinn was the first one to speak up.

"Before anyone says anything, it **wasn't** me! My fingerprints might be there but it wasn't! I didn't buy it either! You can even check the bank statement! But...that $100 from Cashman's was important, I swear-"

Helen held up her hands, "Quinn, slow down!"

She breathed in and out slowly through her nose before speaking again, "It wasn't me. I would never sleep with anyone."

That left only one other person in the room. Helen felt her stomach twist into knots. Not Daria, it wasn't possible. She talked to her just recently and she made it clear that she wasn't ready or interested. She shifted her gaze towards her and frowned. Her entire face was red and she was still watching the floor.

"...Daria?"

"...It wasn't me either. I'm not that stupid."

Helen crossed her arms, "So, I'm supposed to believe that NEITHER of you took that test? So how did it end up in OUR garbage?"

Daria glanced at her sister, "As far as I'm concerned, Quinn just admitted it."

"I did not!" She huffed, "It WASN'T me!"

"Well, it sure as hell wasn't me! You just made up that whole thing about me stealing your stupid list so you could frame me!"

Now, Quinn was just as red as her sister, "I didn't!"

"Now girls..." Jake smoothed his hands over his tie, "Just tell us the truth."

Daria narrowed her eyes, "I just did. I had nothing to do with this."

"Why don't you tell them about you and Tom, huh?" Quinn rolled her eyes, "How about THAT?"

Helen watched Daria avert her eyes again, "If someone doesn't tell me what's going on, right now, there will be consequences!"

"Yeah, Quinn?"

Quinn nervously looked at her sister and then at her mom before finally cracking, "OKAY, FINE! But it wasn't me! When your friend needs help, a girl HAS to be there! So, I helped her and I'm not even supposed to be telling you this because if she found out, she'd never speak to me again!"

"Quinn, what are you talking about?"

She threw her hands into the air, "It was Sandi! There, I said it! But Mom, I swear, you can't say anything to her mom! Plus, she's not even pregnant so there's no reason to turn this into a big deal."

Jake breathed a sigh of relief, "Of course!"

Helen started to rub her temples, "Quinn, you're telling me that Sandi is the one that took the pregnancy test?"

"Yes but you can't say anything! I can't believe I just told you. Oh no!" She shook her head, "This is horrible!"

Daria stood up again, brushing off her skirt, "Another mystery solved."

Helen took several deep breaths before extracting her cellphone, "Quinn, this could've all been avoided if you just told the truth. Don't think you're off the hook."

She started to dial some numbers and then she made her way into the kitchen. Daria gave Quinn a satisfied smiled before making her way upstairs. Quinn sighed, defeated, before slowly heading back upstairs. Jake was the last one in the living room and he continued to stare out at the coffee table, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

"...Wait...what about Daria and Tom?"

He gazed around the empty living room, something in his brain clicking, "HELEN!"


	17. The Past Lane

**Trent Lane as a seventeen year old. Or how I imagine it would've been at Lawndale High and at Casa Lane. Enjoy! **

"MR. LANE!"

Trent Lane shot up in his desk as the booming voice of his History teacher roused him from his afternoon nap. He looked up at Mr. DeMartino who was currently standing a few inched away, tapping his foot impatiently. Trent gulped, already feeling a sense of foreboding creeping upon him. He'd watched his teacher pick up an entire desk and chuck it out into the hall without so much as breaking a sweat. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't stay awake during his class. So far, Mr. DeMartino hadn't decided to throw _him _outside.

"Since you **fail** to see the **importance** of remaining fully **conscious** during my instruction than perhaps you can **enlighten** me..."

Trent lightly drummed his fingers against his desk, his rings gently knocking against the scratched wood, "...Uh..."

"Tell me, **Trent**. What **war** earned us our **independence** from the **oppressive** British parliament?"

"...uh...the...uh...the...revolutionary war!"

Mr. DeMartino's forehead creased and his mouth turned downwards into an impressive scowl, "It never ceases to **amaze** me how you can **retain** information while **sleeping** over half the class period!"

Thoroughly annoyed, he focused his wrath on another unsuspecting student that was doodling in the back of the classroom. Trent breathed a sigh of relief and returned his head to his desk. Only ten more minutes.

* * *

"Do you think, man, that like aliens live here? Because I swear I saw a UFO last night while I was out skateboarding." Jesse Moreno applied a healthy amount of ketchup to his French fries, his wavy brown hair hanging over his eyes.

Trent took a long gulp of his chocolate milk, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "Jesse, you were high as shit. It's why you ate an entire package of cookies in ten minutes."

Jesse shook his head, "Nah, man. This was real. I saw the little lights and everything."

"There was no UFO. Listen, we need to focus on the band. I wrote down some good material in O'Neill's today."

"Cool. Because I was thinking more guitar solos." He picked up his plastic fork and held it like a guitar before mimicking the sound of wailing guitar strings.

Trent laughed and pulled out his notebook which was covered in the anarchy symbol and crudely drawn lightning bolts, "Okay, I got this. _Fire in my brain. Swirling whirlwinds of pain. You sharpened your fangs. You're ripping my veins. All your words sound the same. _And then I had to answer a question about Hamlet."

"Hmmm. Hamlet. Maybe we can write a song about that."

Trent rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "I don't think Shakespeare rhymes with anything."

"Shakespeare...gardening shears..."

"Jar of tears...pack of deer..."

"Uh..." Jesse scratched the back of his head, "Hemisphere?"

Trent pulled a pen from the pocket of his faded jeans and wrote it all down, "Yeah. Alright. Maybe I can work with this. It might give us an edge. Ya know, something historical."

"We're totally going to break into a new scene. I can feel it."

"But we really need a drummer." He ran a hand through his shaggy, black hair, "Did Danny make those posters?"

Jesse shrugged, "I don't know. I think he got stuck on the name. He still likes Something, Something Explosion."

"No, it's too vague. I think Mystik Spiral really explains our raw sound." Trent frowned, "Or maybe we should go with two Y's."

* * *

Jane Lane chewed on the end of her pencil as she tried to complete her math homework. Wind was sitting on the sofa, crying into his hands. The loud, unrelenting sobs were starting to irritate her. She couldn't understand why he was back home _again_. The only explanation her mom gave was that him and his wife were "taking a little time off". Whatever _that_ meant. All she knew was that he was constantly on the verge of tears if he wasn't bawling already. It made it hard to concentrate, especially when she was trying to sketch something.

"Hey, Janey" Trent walked into the room, carrying a can of Ultra Cola. He reached down and ruffled her long, black hair. He briefly glanced at Wind before flopping down on the couch.

"Hi, Trent." She smiled, "How was practice?"

"I think I figured out a new chord. Unless my guitar was tuned wrong again."

"What did I do wrong?!" Wind wiped his blue eyes even though the tears kept flowing, "God, I'm such a failure!"

Trent cringed and slid further down to the other end of the couch. He liked it better when it was just him and Janey. For a twelve year old, she was pretty easy to take care of. All he had to do was keep a well-stocked fridge and make sure he didn't touch any of her art supplies. It wasn't what he imagined doing at seventeen but he didn't mind. If he didn't do it, nobody else would. He scratched his head as he tried to remember where his parents were now. Was his mom in Quebec or Ontario? She was definitely in Canada. And where was his dad? The Andes? He was somewhere in the mountains.

"Oh why, Sheila, why?! I thought you were different!"

"Uh, maybe we should go upstairs. Give Wind some uh...privacy."

Jane gladly gathered her book bag and her homework before following Trent upstairs. Jane bypassed her own bedroom and continued trailing Trent to his own room. Posters of Nirvana, The Doors, and Led Zeppelin adorned his walls as well as caution tape and yellow biohazard stickers. Trent kicked aside piles of clothes and papers that littered his floor, clearing a spot for his sister. She sat cross-legged on the floor and got back to her work while Trent laid down on his bed and switched on the TV. It was already set to the music channel that he always watched. Kurt Cobain was currently on screen, playing live to an enthusiastic crowd. Trent paid close attention, his mind already taking in every minor detail. That would be him someday. He would be playing sold out venues and playing for adoring fans. Trent Lane: the musical genius. He felt his eyelids growing heavy as he rested his head against his pillow. Maybe he should have a stage name. Something catchy but still cool. Maybe just Lane. Yeah, that was cool. Or just Trent. It had a certain ring to it. He started to fall asleep while "Come As You Are" poured out of the TV speakers.

* * *

He pocketed his silver Zippo lighter and settled onto the dented front of his Plymouth Satellite. He had barely taken a drag of his cigarette when a pair of pale fingers pulled it from between his lips. He watched her inhale slowly, her dark lipstick staining the end, before exhaling a cloud of smoke. She tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear before looking in his direction.

"What's up with you?"

"Nothing."

She raised an eyebrow, "Then why are you so quiet?"

"Thinking" he shook his head, "You know, about life."

"What about it?"

"Do you ever think about the future, Monique? Like, after we graduate."

"No." She shrugged, "What's the point? I'm not going to get old and boring like my parents."

He frowned, "But don't you ever wonder? Like what if?"

"What if what?"

"What if..." He paused, "...if it doesn't happen the way we want it to?"

She grabbed his hand, her slender fingers fitting perfectly between his own, "I don't because that's not gonna happen. You think too much, Trent. You're always thinking."

"I have to. It's how I collect my thoughts."

"Maybe tone it down, you're probably frying your brain" She smiled, leaning her head against his shoulder.

They sat in silence for a few moments, both of them focused on the clear night sky. Trent squeezed her hand lightly, taking a deep breath. He was unsure of how to broach the subject. He was always in-tune with his emotions, he as a musician after all. The way he felt when he was with her scared him a little. They weren't dating, at least not technically. But he'd spent enough time with her to feel like she understood him. They got each other. The prospect of adulthood loomed over him and he felt like he would never get this chance again. Despite what she said, there was no telling what would happen after high school. She could meet some new guy and never talk to him again. That would suck.

"...Can I...uh...say something?"

"Why not? I'm not stopping you."

He cleared his throat, "I...um...you know..."

She looked up at him, "What?"

"I um...care about you and I...don't want us to stop being friends..."

"Huh." She shook her head, "You have quite a way with words, you know that?"

"I mean I...uh...I..."

She laughed, "You what? Love me?"

He felt his face heat up and he was grateful that it was nighttime, maybe she couldn't tell, "hm..."

"Do you?" Her eyes widened, "...Really?"

"Maybe."

"It's either yes or no. There's no in-between."

"uh...no...I...no."

"Good." She leaned over and pressed a light kiss against his cheek, "Because I don't think I could handle that."

He didn't say anything more about the issue. Maybe she was right.

They had the rest of their lives to figure it all out.


	18. Switcheroo

**I have to do the whole 'gender-swap' character bit. AU where Jane Lane is now a male. A completely unoriginal concept that I feel obligated to attempt. **

"Esteem... a teen. They don't really rhyme, do they? The sounds don't quite mesh. And that, in fact, is often the case when it comes to a teen and esteem. The two just don't seem to go together. But we are here to begin realizing your actuality..."

Jace Lane ignored the chipper voice of his overly enthusiastic self-esteem teacher, Mr. O'Neill, and continued to draw in his worn sketchbook. Currently, his sketch was taking on the likeness of his teacher except his body was replaced by the torso of a stuffed teddy bear. He was contemplating adding a few bunnies and rainbows when an unfamiliar voice cut through Mr. O'Neill's opening monologue.

"Excuse me. I have a question."

Jace looked forward, just noticing the new girl sitting in front of him. From his angle, he could only make out her long, auburn hair and a pair of round eyeglasses over her dark brown eyes. He shifted in his desk so he could see the rest of her. She was wearing a loose fitting green jacket over an ocher t-shirt, a black pleated skirt, and a pair of scuffed Doc Martens boots. He had to admit, the look was impressive. Definitely a welcome change to the type of girls he normally saw at Lawndale High. The expression on her face was completely unreadable which only made Jace more interested. Who was she?

"Sorry, question and answer time is later." Mr. O'Neill prepared to jump back into his narrative but the girl pressed on.

"I want to know what "realizing your actuality" means."

Jace could detect the hint of irritation in her tone. Mr. O'Neill, slightly flustered, reached for his teacher's manual and started to hurriedly flip through the pages.

"It means... look, just let me get through this part, okay? Then there'll be a video!" He clasped his hands together, "Before we unlock your potential..."

Jace heard the girl let out an exasperated sigh and he felt a personal obligation to help the poor soul. He'd been through the class six times, he knew what had to be done to survive almost unscathed. He leaned forward, garnering her attention. She turned to face him.

"He doesn't know what it means. He's got the speech memorized. Just enjoy the nice man's soothing voice."

"How am I supposed to follow him if I don't know what he's talking about?"

"If you want, I can fill you in later. I've taken this course six times."

She raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on his admission, "...Okay. Sure."

He extended his right hand, a silver skull ring gleaming proudly on his ring finger, "Jace Lane."

"...Daria Morgendorffer." She lightly grasped his hand and shook quickly.

Jace opened his mouth to say something else but the lights were shut off and the TV was pushed to the front of the classroom. He rolled his eyes just as 'SELF ESTEEM AND YOU' flashed across the screen. Two 'teenagers' dressed in seventies clothes walked stiffly down a school hallway, flanked on both sides by burgundy lockers. One of them started to speak in a forced southern drawl while the other took a ridiculous amount of time to open their locker.

"Enjoy the trainwreck." Jace whispered before letting his pale blue eyes close. This was a perfect time to catch up on some sleep.

* * *

Jace walked leisurely down the street with his new acquaintance in tow. He was surprised when he exited the classroom and saw her leaning against the wall, waiting for him. He wasn't used to people _wanting_ to be around him, let alone people he just met. He secretly questioned her motives but for now, he acted naturally.

"So, then, after the role-playing, next class they put the girls and the guys in separate rooms and I'll let you figure out the rest."

She cringed, "This just keeps getting more and more awful. And you've done this six times?"

He nodded, "That's right. It's worth it to see how pissed Mrs. Li gets when I keep failing the psychological exam."

"Sure...I guess I can see that. But you've got the entire course memorized. Why not test out and do something else?"

"I could pass the test, but I like having low self-esteem. It makes me feel special."

Daria shook her head as they neared a pale yellow, two-story house with overgrown weeds in the front yard. Among the tall grass was a rusted metal sculpture that could've been a bent 'Y' or an abstract take on a tree. Jace slowed to a stop once they were in front of the crooked white mailbox.

"My stop. See ya tomorrow?"

She hesitated, tightening the strap on her backpack, "...Yeah. Tomorrow."

He watched her continue down the sidewalk before turning to enter his house. He pushed open the unlocked front door and quietly shut it behind him. The living room was cluttered with pottery and un-hung paintings. The coffee table was piled high with unopened mail which Jace had no intention of ever reading. As far as he was concerned, it was his older brother Trent's job. Or better yet, his absentee parents. He bitterly knocked over the teetering tower, sending white envelopes cascading across the paint splattered carpet. He continued making his way upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. He passed his own bedroom and peered into an open doorway to check on his brother. Trent was lying face down on his bed, clad only in his striped boxer shorts. Jace paused to make sure he could hear him snoring before heading back towards his own room.

He kicked aside a pile of clothes and a stack of CD's as he approached his easel. The canvas that was currently resting there was coming out perfectly. He stared at the blood red background and sharply angled gray mountains for any sign of imperfection. The shading could've been better but that's what painting at 3 AM got him. He grabbed a clean paintbrush and dipped it into some black paint before painting a thick line vertically across the bottom of his picture. Satisfied, he continued working, losing himself in his artwork.

* * *

"So... like, what do you like to do after school?"

Jace watched as a scrawny looking boy in a basketball jersey tried to flirt with a cute freshman girl with long red hair and a near perfect smile. He shook his head as he caught the knowing glint in her hazel eyes. That guy would be toast in a matter of minutes. Jace had dealt with his fair share of rejections. It was best to know which girls to avoid. She was definitely one of them.

"Oh, nothing special. Go to the movies... or, like, a theme park... or out for a really fancy meal now and then... or maybe go to a concert, if, like, I know somebody's got good seats and is renting a limo and stuff."

"You hear that? He hasn't got a prayer." Jace shoved his hands in the pockets of his black blazer.

"Tell me about it. That's my sister."

His eyes widened slightly as he looked over at Daria. He scanned her face, first to see if she was joking. After verifying her sincerity, he continued to stare. The family resemblance was definitely there. Daria was just as attractive as her sister...maybe more so. It was difficult to really remember since she hid it well behind her glasses and plain, loose-fitting clothing. However, he couldn't help but notice how nice her legs were. It was the only thing she didn't cover up. She coughed and he realized how awkward the silence had become. He averted his eyes and tried to ignore the heat rising to his cheeks. _You just met her, don't scare her away._

"...Oh. Bummer."

He continued to listen to the conversation going on across the hall. His interest was piqued now. He was curious about her sister, wondering if their personalities were similar at all.

"So, you've got any brothers or sisters?"

He watched the girl twirl a strand of hair around her finger before saying, "I'm an only child."

Jace winced at the low blow before looking back at Daria. She was scowling with her arms crossed but he could see a hint of sadness in her eyes. Jace had complicated relationships with his own siblings. The only one that actually acknowledged and liked him was Trent. Summer, Penny, and Wind may as well have been complete strangers. Still he was sure none of them would openly revoke their relationship.

"I never thought I'd be happy to go to class." She mumbled before darting into the classroom.

Jace took his seat next to her just as the bell rang. Mr. O'Neill smiled brightly out at the entire class, clearly eager to begin today's lesson in self-esteem. Without hesitation, he started one of his nauseating motivational speeches.

* * *

"When we talk about "ourselves" we're talking about "us." Now, guys, I've got a little challenge for you. Today we talked about turning your daydreams into reality. Tonight, I want each one of you to go home and do just that. What do you say?" He paused before pointing at Daria, "Um... you. What's a daydream that you'd like to see come true?"

"Well, I guess I'd like my whole family to do something together."

Jace was taken aback by her comment. Was she actually being serious?

Mr. O'Neill beamed, "Excellent!"

"Something that will really make them suffer."

Jace chuckled as Daria sported one of her typical half smiles. Mr. O'Neill tugged on the collar of his shirt, visibly uncomfortable.

"Uh... it's healthy to air these feelings... I think..." The bell rang out, cutting him off, "Uh...we'll talk more about this tomorrow. Class dismissed."

Jace followed Daria out. He had come to greatly appreciate her sarcastic attitude. It was a relief to finally have someone to battle wits with. That and it made classes easier to tolerate. Maybe he had a friend after all. They stopped at her locker so she could exchange her books and he bent down to tie his boots.

"That was a good one in there."

"Thanks."

"So" he stood up, "What torture do you plan on inflicting on your unsuspecting family?"

She smiled, "There's a great restaurant with singing animals and everything. I think that will really help me."

"Pizza Forest? Now, that's just evil."

She slammed her locker shut, "I'm just completing my assignment. What about you?"

He shrugged, "I have always dreamed of stealing precious artifacts from priceless art exhibits resulting in a high-speed chase. But I don't think I can pull that off in one night. So, I've resigned to get in contact with my parents."

"Your parents? Don't they live with you?"

"Technically, yes. But Dad's in Port-au-Prince and Mom's in New Zealand. They've been gone for six months."

She frowned, "You're by yourself?"

He could sense that this conversation probably wasn't the best to have but it was too late to change the subject. He knew his parents absence wasn't normal or probably even legal. It was something he rarely remembered. His parents were always traveling and they had been ever since he was ten years old. The most he saw of Amanda and Vincent was during the brief two week periods they decided to stay home and 'recharge'. As far as he was concerned, Trent was more of a guardian than they had ever been. Again, that was a problem he didn't spend time thinking about. Trent wasn't exactly reliable or responsible. There had been plenty of times when the lights or heating had been turned off and they could do nothing but learn to live with it until their parents sent more money. He knew Trent tried his best but it was basically like fending for himself. Jace didn't mind, he felt it made him more mature. But he realized not everybody felt that way.

"Uh...no. Ya know, my brother Trent's there. It's not a big deal."

"...Are you sure? I mean, you're okay right?"

The last thing he wanted was to make her concerned for his welfare. He'd been living this way for years. He was fine, "Totally! As long as Trent remembers to buy groceries."

He laughed but Daria's forehead was creased with worry, "How old is he? I mean...does he have a job?"

Jace didn't like where the conversation was heading. Trent was twenty-one and he was sixteen. They were completely capable of fending for themselves. He was starting to warm up to Daria but he didn't need her prying into his business, "It's fine, Daria. We're fine. I wouldn't have said anything if I knew you were going to get so worked up."

"I'm not." She narrowed her eyes, "I just...forget it. Let's hope you can turn your daydreams into a reality."

She stomped off before he could say anything else. He watched her exit through the double doors and across the school parking lot. He was tempted to run after her but he shook his head and headed in the opposite direction.

* * *

The phone rang once...twice...three times. Jace kept the receiver pressed against his ear even as the automated message told him that the number was no longer in service. He glanced down at the scrap of paper in his hand and tried the second number. This time, it only rang twice before it was answered.

"Hello?" The airy voice of his mother drifted through the phone. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Mom? It's me."

"Jace! How are you, sunshine?"

He rolled his eyes at the childhood nickname, "Good. Uhm, how's New Zealand?"

"Oh, fantastic! There's really a calming aura here. Oh, I wish you could be here too."

"Yeah but ya know, school and whatnot...when are you coming home?"

She paused, "I'm not sure, sunshine. Maybe it another month or so. Who can put a time limit on things like this? How's Trent?"

Jace turned towards the table where his brother was sitting with a steaming cup of coffee, his dark eyes barely opened, "He's awake before five so I'd say great."

"Wonderful." He heard several voices in the background, "I have to go. Lots of pottery to fire. I'll see you soon."

He sighed, "Yeah. Soon. Bye, Mom."

"Bye, sunshine."

There was a click and then she was gone. He placed the phone down and flopped down in the chair across from Trent.

"Mom?"

He nodded, "Yeah. I guess my reality will stay just the way it is."

"Huh?"

Jace ran a hand through his short-cropped black hair, "Forget it. Don't you have practice today?"

Trent sipped his coffee thoughtfully, "Hm...I don't remember. I should really start writing these things down."

"Maybe. I'll be in my room."

Trent nodded while Jace left the table and went up to his bedroom. He closed the door and laid down on his bed before turning on the TV. It was already on his favorite station: Bizarre TV. He tried to focus on the newest episode of Sick, Sad World but his mind kept wandering back to his conversation with his mom. Despite it all, he did miss her. Sure, she was a little too spiritual and she rarely made much sense but she was his mom. He couldn't even remember the last time she stayed around for longer than a few weeks. He mirrored Daria's earlier sentiment even if she had been saying it in jest. He _did_ want his entire family to do something together, like normal. It seemed that would never happen. With Wind's string of failed marriages, Penny's extended stays in Mexico, and Summer's unruly children they could never have a decent time together. He suspected that it was better this way, with just him and Trent. After all, who else really knew him? There was a light knock on his door and he stood up to answer it. He didn't expect to see Daria standing there.

"Uh, hey."

She scratched the back of her head, "Can I come in?"

He moved away from the door so she could enter. She took a seat on the edge of his bed while he dragged over the computer chair.

"...I came to apologize. I shouldn't have stormed off like that."

"No, it was my fault. You were just being a good friend."

She nodded, "...Yeah. Um, look, I had an idea."

He rested his arms behind his head, "Okay. What is it?"

" You know all the answers to the questions on the release test, right?"

"I've got them in my notebook."

"Well, why don't we just take the test tomorrow and get out of the class once and for all?"

"But then how would I spend my afternoons?"

She smirked, "UFO conventions."

He followed her gaze to the TV screen where a pimple-faced kid with a bowl-cut and buckteeth was currently talking to a reporter.

_"It was a cone-shaped craft about 15 feet long, with an air speed of, oh, I'd estimate mach 12. They kidnapped and stripped me, examined me briefly, returned my clothes, and dropped me here."_

Jace grinned, "_Now_ you're talking."

* * *

Daria and Jace waited behind while the rest of their class filed out of the classroom. Jace almost couldn't believe he was finally testing out of the class. Truthfully, he only stayed because it beat sitting around at home all day. It was crazy to think that he actually had someone else to hang around now.

"Hi! Did you need clarification on something we covered today?"

Daria cleared her throat, "We feel really good about ourselves."

"We want to take the graduation test."

Mr. O'Neill frowned, "Well! I'm glad your self-image meter is on the uptick! But there's still three more weeks of class left."

"This first week has been a real eye-opener." Daria smiled, "It must be the way you teach."

Jace swallowed down his laughter at the appreciative look on Mr. O'Neill's face.

"Oh, well... thank you very much." He turned towards Jace, "You know, you look familiar somehow..."

Daria interrupted, "So, can we take the test?"

"Well, it's not the way we usually do it, but... I guess so." He grabbed the paper on his desk and started to read, "Okay, question one: "Self-esteem is important because..."

"It's a quality that will stand us in good stead the rest of our lives."

"Very good. Now, "The next time I start to feel bad about myself..."

Jace took over, " Stand before the mirror, look myself in the eye and say, "You are special. No one else is like you."

"You two really have been paying attention! Okay, "There's no such thing..."

"As the right weight." Jace looked at Daria.

"Or the right height."

"There's only what's right for me."

She smirked, "Because me is who I am."

"I don't think we have to go any farther. I am really pleased! I think the whole school needs to hear about this at assembly!"

Daria's face fell but Jace quickly thought of something.

"Uh, Mr. O'Neill, I don't think that's such a good idea."

He scratched his chin, "Why not?"

Jace looked down at his shoes and frowned, "I don't know, the thought of the whole school knowing about my low self-esteem. I just...it would make me feel bad...like a giant failure."

"Oh dear!" Mr. O'Neill started to write something down on a piece of paper, "Of course! How could I not see that? Forgive me!"

Daria gave Jace a thumbs up while Mr. O'Neill busied himself with his folder of papers. They both made their hasty retreat while he was still preoccupied by his terrible suggestion.

"Good save. I thought we'd have to go through with it."

"Never underestimate the gullibility of our teachers."

* * *

Jace raised his disposable camera and took several shots of a miniature replica of a UFO complete with tiny green alien. Daria gave the booth attendant a few dollars and purchased it. Jace prepared to take a picture of her with the object but she gave him a death glare.

"Don't even think about it, Lane."

He lowered the camera and smiled, "I won't let you ruin my fun."

Quinn was recoiling from a display of fake cryogenically frozen specimens. Jace thought about snapping a picture but he decided against it. He knew Quinn's sense of humor wasn't anything like her sister's. Helen and Jake were equally as uncomfortable though they both sported forced smiles. Jace was surprised her family complied after the Pizza Forest fiasco. Daria pointed towards a large cardboard cutout of an alien.

"Alright, let's go get our picture taken with the cardboard alien."

Jake shoved his hands in the pockets of his khaki pants, " Uh... sure, honey. Whatever you want."

Jace followed the family, minus Quinn, over to the display. He raised his camera, smiling at Daria's widespread grin. Jake and Helen were more subdued but still putting on a brave effort.

"Say cheese!"

**All direct quotes from Esteemsters. **


	19. Lost

Another prompt from PPMB. Here were the rules: **During the course of any episode, exactly 2 of the 4 Morgendorffers die (Ruth is exempt.) The story is the story of the survivors. Or not. Whichever. They can die concurrently or not. And I guess the "secret ingredient" is to use at least 1 definite article.**

It wasn't as if she was really gone.

In the traditional sense, she was. Dead. Deceased. Departed. At least that's what she garnered from the listless time she'd spent wandering around in limbo. That had been the most unnerving part of the entire transition. There was shouting, a pressure on her chest and then nothing. Silence and a vast white nothingness that seemed to go on forever. At first she thought maybe she was dreaming. But she didn't wake up and the expanse continued on forever, each inch of space exactly the same as the one before. It surprised her when, without explanation, she was back in her bedroom.

The entire layout was starkly different. The green padded walls were absent, replaced by mint green paint. The carpet was crisp, white, and brand new. She could even make out vacuum lines pressed into it. A bed was still there, fitted with plush white sheets and two large pillows. Where was her Kafka poster? And her replication of a human skull? Confused, she made her way out into the hall. An eerie quiet stretched out around her as she made her way to Quinn's bedroom.

The door was already opened. She cautiously stepped inside, over the same carpeting that now adorned her own room. Quinn's room virtually mirrored her own. The only difference being a plain office desk pushed against the far left wall. She stared at the basic furnishings, a pit forming in her stomach. She used to hate Quinn's room but now she longed to see the pale yellow walls and the bright pink carpet. She wanted the closet to be full of miniskirts and midriff t-shirts, all organized by color and fabric. She wanted it to be normal.

"...Daria?!"

She turned quickly, her dark brown eyes finding her red-haired younger sister sitting on the edge of the bed. Quinn's eyes were widened in shock as she took in Daria's presence.

"Quinn?!"

At least she hadn't changed. She still wore the pink butterfly top and designer jeans she'd come to love in high school. Her hair was just as long and bright as it had been before. But there was something odd about her. Her hazel eyes were duller, clouded. It didn't take long for Daria to understand.

"You're dead."

She tossed some hair over her shoulder, "As if I didn't know that already. And you're supposed to be the smart one."

"I'm dead." She sat down next to her, "We're both dead."

"I know. How lame is that?" Quinn frowned, "I never even got to wear that sequined top I got for my birthday."

"...This is...kind of surreal."

Daria stared down at her hands as she tried to make some sense of the situation. She had been alone for a period of time. How long, she wasn't sure. Now, here was Quinn. She couldn't understand how or why but they were together again. Again...they were together before too, she remembered vaguely. Quinn had been the one shouting, screaming about something...

"...What do you think is going on?"

She blinked, "What do you mean?"

"Like, what do you think they're doing?" Quinn looked back towards the door, "...I was too scared to leave."

Daria found herself grabbing her sister's hand for the first time since they were children, "Then we'll go together."

* * *

Helen sat at the kitchen table with a steaming cup of coffee sitting in front of her. She stared down into the bitter, brown liquid with tired eyes. There was work to be done. There had always been work to be done. It used to rule her life. There wasn't a second where she wasn't discussing legal briefs or thinking about her current case. Now, none of it was important. All those precious moments wasted. And for what? She was lost in thought and even if she had been completely focused, she'd never be able to see her daughters watching her from their usual seats.

Daria felt a pang of sadness as she watched, her stomach twisting into knots. She was used to her mom being strong and determined. This wounded woman couldn't possibly be her mother. It hurt to know that SHE was the reason for the shift. She wanted to comfort her. To say something, anything. But there was nothing she could do. Quinn, the more emotional of the two, was on the verge of tears. Her hands were trembling as she shook her head in disbelief. This wasn't supposed to happen.

Jake sat at the head of the table with a newspaper laid out in front of him. His eyes slowly scanned the articles as he sat still as stone. He didn't raise his head to look at his wife or open his mouth to speak. He didn't even lift a hand to turn the page. He only sat rigidly in his chair, unmoving and unfeeling. He felt the days stretched out before him. Weeks that would pass by slowly. Uneventful months that would drag by at a snail's pace. Holidays without meaning. He started to measure life by the minutes ticking away on the clock. They were no longer just sixty second increments. They were echoes of the time spent without them.

Quinn couldn't deal with the thickness in the air and she leapt from the table, rushing towards the front door. Daria followed behind her, grabbing her wrist before she could yank the door open.

"There's nothing out there."

"How do you know?" Quinn sniffled, wiping her eyes, "You don't know that!"

Daria had no proof, no evidence to support her assumption but she had a strong feeling. Part of her hoped that she was mistaken. Maybe it was that simple. They could walk outside and live as ghosts for the rest of eternity, secretly watching over their loved ones. The sinking feeling in her chest said otherwise.

"There's nothing out there" She took a deep breath, "You can't go out there."

Quinn glared, indignation written all over her face, "I'm not staying here! There...there has to be something...there has to be..."

She reached out, grabbing the doorknob with her right hand. As soon as her fingers closed around the metal she jerked back, her fingertips burned.

"OUCH!"

Daria watched as Quinn gingerly pressed her thumb against her palm, wincing. She was going to ask if she was okay when she noticed the smoke. The thick gray cloud pressed in from underneath the door, the acrid smoke causing her eyes to water. Her pulse started to accelerate as something in her mind clicked.

"...No...oh no..."

* * *

_"__Fire! Fire!"_

_Daria's eyes slowly fluttered open and tried to adjust to the darkness surrounding her. The warm embrace of sleep still lingered and she yawned, wondering if she had been dreaming. She could've sworn someone yelled 'fire'. The voice sounded like that of her father but it was difficult to tell. It could have been the booming baritone of Roger Wilson, shouting to Melody Powers from his place in the aircraft carrier as she escaped the crumbling agency building. Daria squinted, her eyes struggling to discern some of the blurry shapes in front of her. Without her glasses, it was hard to tell if what she saw was real. Smoke? It certainly seemed like smoke. She sniffed the air before climbing out of bed as quickly as her tired body would allow. _

_The smoke only got thicker as she approached her bedroom door. She paused in front of it, her mind racing a mile a minute. She HAD to leave, there was no other option. She silently cursed herself for not allowing her mother to redecorate. Sure, the drop was steep but at least the windows were generally safe. She remembered Jane making a joke about this very situation as panic started to take over. How close was the fire? How bad was it? By the looks of the smoke, things weren't good. She inhaled slowly through her nose and started to think critically. She could make it out into the hall, if she proceeded with caution. She'd handle the rest once she got there. She lightly touched the door with the back of her hand before turning the doorknob and pushing the door open._

_The air was thick and her eyes started to water almost immediately. She blindly felt along the wall, inching her way towards the staircase. Her fingers just closed around the top of the banister when she heard a scream. It was coming from behind her. She would recognize the sound anywhere: it was Quinn. She swallowed hard, the older sibling instinct automatically taking over. She couldn't leave her behind. She let her hand fall away from the railing as she felt her way back towards the furthest part of the house. It would've been smarter to crawl but her mind was locked on locating Quinn and then getting the hell out of there. She was coughing by the time she found Quinn's door. The temperature had risen steadily and she was covered in sweat, her face flushed and red. She shoved open the door and found Quinn sobbing in the corner of the room which was already filled with smoke._

_Daria stumbled over to her and gripped her shoulders tightly, "We have to go!"_

_Quinn's face was streaked with tears, "I...I can't...I...I'm...s...scared..."_

_"Quinn, I don't have time for this!" Daria forcefully yanked her from the floor, "We need to..."_

_Quinn's eyes opened even wider as she held onto her sister's arm, her nails digging into her shoulder. Daria didn't have to wonder what was wrong because she too saw the flames just beyond the doorway. The whooshing sound was permeated by the crackling wallpaper as the heat caused it to wrinkle and melt. Daria could barely breathe now, her lungs felt like they were filled with sand. Each small gasp was punctuated by a wheeze. She found herself sinking to the floor, right where Quinn once sat. _

_"DARIA!"_

_She opened her mouth but she couldn't speak. The edges of her vision were starting to get fuzzy, as if static was descending over the room. Quinn kneeled down in front of her and tried futilely to pry her from the floor._

_"No! Come on! Stand up!"_

_Daria could just make out the doorframe, nearly engulfed by the fire. Darkness descended upon her as a she took her last breath._

* * *

_Helen watched on in horror after the flames were extinguished. The house was still standing but destroyed. She watched the EMTS exit the house, wheeling out two sheet covered bodies. No. Not her girls. That couldn't be them. Jake was standing next to her, his face completely ashen. It was his fault this happened. His fault that her daughters were..._

_"_ _What's wrong with you?!_ _What were you thinking?!"_

_He stared at nothing in particular, his voice barely above a whisper, "..._ _Well, I remember thinking, "Damn it, damn waiter with his damn phony decaf." Then I was thinking, "I need some damn milk..."_

_She watched her husband, her rage crushed by crippling sadness. It was an accident. He tried to save them, to reach them in time. But the fire took off faster than either of them could imagine. _

_He would've never made it upstairs. _


	20. 1'001 Deaths of Sandi Griffin

**Based off of one of my favorite movies, Heathers. All direct quotes are the property of Daniel Waters. All Daria characters belong to Glenn Eichler. **

Quinn Morgendorffer stared down at the wide, empty brown eyes of her now dead friend, Sandi Griffin. Bits of broken glass from the shattered coffee table littered the area around her lifeless body and the cup she'd been drinking from laid a few inches away from her outstretched palm. Quinn watched in horror as the bright blue liquid stained the carpet. There was no way that stain would ever come out.

"Something tells me you picked up the wrong cup." The tall, lanky boy standing next to her was running a hand through his short cropped red hair and staring at Sandi with mild interest. It was, after all, his mug of liquid drain cleaner that took Sandi's last breath. Quinn had just been too preoccupied to notice the difference between that and the noxious combination of milk, water, and orange juice she haphazardly splashed together. It wasn't her fault that her nail polish started to chip at the wrong moment!

"I wouldn't have picked up the wrong cup, Jerome, if you would've just listened to me! I can't believe it. I killed my best friend."

"And your worst enemy."

She flopped down into Sandi's plush computer chair, "Same difference. This is, like, so not cool! I can't go to prison! They make you wear those ugly orange jumpsuits."

Jamie scratched his head thoughtfully, "Uh...maybe we can get your sister to help? You know, the brain?"

Quinn was prepared to offer her standard line: "She's my cousin." But then she took some time to think about the idea. She certainly couldn't deal with this mess on her own. It wasn't like Daria had anything better to do anyway. She was good at coming up with plans and cleaning up other people's messes. Quinn had paid her many times to finish homework assignments. This would be kinda like the same thing. Except much more important and potentially dangerous to her popularity. If Tiffany and Stacy found out she'd be ruined! She pulled a small, pink studded cellphone out of the pocket of her designer jeans and quickly dialed a few numbers.

"There's a death con five situation going on."

* * *

Daria Morgendorffer gaped at the grisly scene in front of her in disbelief. Sandi was indeed just as dead as Quinn described. Daria always thought she would be the one convicted of murder. Quinn always had a way of surprising her. She surveyed the area, careful not to actually touch anything. Her combat boots crunched on broken glass and she nearly stepped right onto the cup that was lying on the floor. She knelt down to inspect it closer and then she noticed the strange blue tint to Sandi's lips.

"Drain-O?" She looked back at Quinn, "Seriously?"

Quinn rolled her eyes, "It was Jordan! I'm just an innocent bystander!"

"You mean an accomplice." Daria turned to Jamie who looked about as useful as a wet dishrag, "Since this was your idea Major Genius, what do _you _suppose we do about this?"

"That's what we called you for?" He frowned.

Daria placed a hand on her head in frustration. Why was she always the one that had to deal with the idiots? She scoped out the rest of the room until her eyes fell on a familiar novel. The Bell Jar was lying on top of Sandi's computer desk, clearly never opened. She picked it up and turned it over in her hands a few times, an idea forming in her head.

"Okay. What you guys did is murder. In Lawndale, and virtually everywhere else, that's a felony. "

Quinn looked like she was about to cry. Daria sighed, "But, suicide, well, that's a different story."

"Dah-ria, that's ridiculous. Sandi would never do that."

"Listen, I'm trying to help you. It's either that or prison. You take your pick."

Quinn hesitated before giving in, "...Okay. What do we have to do?"

Daria grabbed a gel pen and a piece of computer paper, "I take it you can do a pretty good imitation of Sandi's handwriting?"

"Yeah, it's practically second nature or whatever."

Daria thrust the paper at her, "Good. I need you to write down exactly what I tell you."

Quinn sat back down at the desk and prepared to write.

"You might think what I've done is shocking...but..."

"It's not always easy being pretty and popular. We have problems too."

Daria was surprised, "That's...actually pretty good."

Quinn continued, "Our lives aren't always as easy and fun as they look. Nobody understood that I had feelings too."

"I die knowing no one knew the real me."

Quinn finished with Sandi's loopy script, dotting the I with a filled in heart, "You haven't done this before have you?"

Daria rolled her eyes, "I should be asking you that question. Come on, let's get out of here. You too, Jordan."

"It's Jamie!"

* * *

Lawndale High was a buzz of energy the next morning. There was the initial air of sadness but underneath, there were rumors and gossip regarding the untimely death of Sandi. Quinn was feeling both relieved and guilty. She didn't want her dead but now that she was gone...it wasn't that bad. There would be no one to criticize her fashion choices, to try and humiliate her in front of everyone, to scorn her because they were jealous. A day without Sandi Griffin was refreshing...and she felt horrible for thinking it. It wasn't enough that she was directly responsible, she also had to add callous on top of that. Things weren't supposed to be this difficult for the popular people.

Quinn made her way into the girls locker room after a heavy assembly where Ms. Li and Mrs. Manson took turns both explaining the horrors of the tragedy while also emphasizing the need for open communication between students and staff. Quinn knew it was just so Ms. Li could explain the need for that lie detector she was trying to buy. It was all so boring, Quinn was actually happy to be going to gym. In the locker room, Tiffany and Stacy were standing near their lockers, looking lost and forlorn. Quinn approached and they both surrounded her instantly.

"Oh god, it's so unfair!" Stacy lamented, "It's just so unfair! We should get the whole week off. You know, to grieve."

Tiffany nodded, "Yeah, soooo unfair. We should, like, write someone."

Quinn agreed solemnly though she thought leaving school an hour early was good enough. The sooner everyone forgot about Sandi, the better.

"Look, Sandi left one of her hair clips." Stacy handed it to Quinn, "She'd want you to have it Quinn. She always said you could take a lesson in accessorizing."

Quinn knew Stacy didn't mean it maliciously but it just reminded her of how much better off she was without Sandi. She took the teal hairclip and used it to secure her bangs to the side, "Good accessories really shouldn't go to waste."

* * *

Daria sat on the couch with her feet resting against the coffee table. Jane Lane, her best friend, sat next to her in the same position. They were watching the news coverage about 'The Girl Gone Too Soon.' It consisted of reels of Sandi's photos up until the current year and conversations with some of their fellow classmates. Kevin Thompson, the star quarterback, was speaking to a reporter.

"Like, I remember this one time I won her a stuffed teddy bear at this fair we had in middle school. I think she said something like-"

"Agh!" Jane tossed a pillow at the TV screen, "What a bunch of bullshit! Mute him!"

Daria lifted up the remote and hit the 'MUTE' button, "What now?"

"Next channel, amiga."

Shrugging, Daria changed the channel to see her sister on screen looking every bit the professional.

"You know, Sandi was a lot of things: popular, pretty, confident. It's like nobody ever really sits back to think, 'what are they really thinking about'?"

"My little sister, the darling hypocrite." Daria shut off the TV, "I'll be glad when this is over."

Jane looked over at her, "Who would've thought they could get even more popular after they die?"

Daria smirked, "Now who's The Misery Chick?"

* * *

Sandi's funeral was a long, dramatic affair with lots of floral arrangements and a church packed with family and Lawndale High students alike. Most of them never even bothered to speak to Sandi yet, here they were, dressed in their funeral best all wearing matching masks of sadness. Quinn sat in the front row clad in a long black dress and lace gloves. She even borrowed her mom's pearl earrings for affect. The priest was going on and on about tragedy and The Bible and a bunch of other nonsense that Quinn knew nothing about. She was itching to get out of there. She glanced at Stacy who was sitting to her left. She looked just as bored and disinterested as Quinn felt. The shift caused by Sandi's death was getting even more apparent now. Stacy, usually timid and on the verge of a panic attack, was more collected than she'd ever been. Tiffany, who normally never said more than two words, was talking all the time and giving her own opinions. Quinn wished Sandi had croaked sooner. She clamped her hands over her mouth even though she didn't say it out loud. Could she go to hell for thinking that in a church?

Luckily, it was time to view the casket so Quinn had something else to think about. She stared down at Sandi's body which looked remarkably like plastic.

"_Uhm, God or whatever, I know this is kinda my fault but you believe in forgiveness and that sort of thing so you have to cut me some slack! Also, when I die, I hope it's a lot more graceful and elegant because the last thing I want to do is ruin a perfectly good outfit AND a glass table."_

She took her leave and was replaced by Stacy Rowe.

_"...Sometimes I prayed that Sandi was dead. And I always felt super bad about it and horrible but I kept doing it anyway. But now it's like divine retribution or something so I know you actually listened to me! Thanks!"_

Stacy scurried away and Tiffany looked over the casket with a shudder.

_"Am I going to look all weird when I die because that's not cool. This is a really bad deal and I feel super bummed out so please make sure Sandi is in the popular people part of heaven. And that I get part of her make-up collection."_

With the funeral over, Quinn felt more rejuvenated than ever. Maybe she would go on that date with Skylar tonight. She glanced back at the church and waved.

"Goodbye, Sandi."


End file.
